InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Entrapment: A 21st Century Adventure ❯ Defection ( Chapter 11 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: King Baka 
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Adventure / Action | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 09.18.2011 | Pages: 3 | Words: 6.1K | Visits: 828 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Adventure / Action | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 09.18.2011 | Pages: 3 | Words: 6.1K | Visits: 828 | Status: Work In Progress
Disclaimer: I don’t own Inuyasha or any of the publicly known characters, plot, etc. I’m just renting them from Rumiko Takahashi, Viz, etc. I do own the plot of this story and any original characters I’ve created. I will make no money from this fic; I write for my own enjoyment and the enjoyment of my readers.
Defection
Miroku sighed as he watched her pace back and forth, her footfalls on the wood floor like the beat of a war drum before battle. Sango had been irritable lately, and today especially, so much so that he had dared not even attempt a grope since yesterday. With her mood fluctuating wildly yet always in the negative side of the spectrum, she might not be satisfied with a retaliatory slap. But he couldn’t blame her for her frustration, for he was feeling it just as strongly. He was simply better at concealing his emotions than she was, due to his upbringing. Mushin was a drunkard, and a bit of a lecher as well, but the man took his responsibilities and training as a monk very seriously. Or at least he once had, back when it was necessary to instill that same devotion in a young disciple. Miroku was grateful; his kazaana was an awesome weapon, but he much preferred to fight with his spiritual strength and cool head. The latter was called for now. A shouting match with his fiery fiancé was one clash he was almost sure to lose.
“Dammit, Houshi-sama. I am so tired of sitting around and waiting!”
“So am I, Sango. But we must stay here until Inuyasha and Kagome-sama return.”
“For how long? It’s already been almost half a lunar cycle. What if they don’t come back? Have you thought of that?”
Miroku frowned. “Of course I have. But I have faith that they will—”
“Don’t ever question my faith in our friends!” Sango snarled. Then she seemed to recognize the tone of her voice, and her expression softened. She did not wish to take out her frustration on one of her few remaining companions. “It must be a truly dire situation in Kagome-chan’s world that keeps them away from us,” she said quietly.
“And we must be here for them when they return from that ‘dire situation.’”
“Or we could stay true to their ideals and complete our mission! It always happens—we stumble upon trouble through dumb luck. How many people have we saved just by showing up at the right place at the right time?”
“Many, and many of those instances you speak of came about as a result of Kagome-sama’s ability to sense the Shikon no Tama. We no longer have that ability. It would truly be ‘dumb luck’ if we did happen upon trouble.”
“So be it! It’s better than going crazy with worry in this damn village! And there’s always the chance that we find Naraku on the road,” Sango declared, pounding a clenched fist into her palm. “But no chance of that here!”
“Suppose we did run into Naraku. What then? You know as well as I that we are not nearly as formidable without Inuyasha’s sword and Kagome-sama’s bow.”
“I’m not afraid,” Sango insisted darkly.
Now, Miroku’s typical response to that statement would be something to the effect of ‘I know you’re not.’ That was what Sango clearly expected him to say. But he had to get through to her, and to do so he needed to point out something that she would rather not acknowledge.
“Yes you are. Not of Naraku,” he hastily added, curtailing an irate response from the taijiya. “But of failure. I know it, because I fear it as well. And if we go out without our strongest fighter, and our most powerful spiritual presence, the risk of failure, of meaningless death, goes up substantially.”
Sango looked away, but he could see her mind working behind her blazing auburn orbs. He had put it in the terms of a warrior, a strategist, and she understood. But the argument was not over; she opened her mouth to speak, then stopped, her eyes widening as she stared at something behind him. Without a word she darted past him, grabbing her hiraikotsu on her way out of the hut. Miroku heaved himself off the floor and followed, skidding to a stop as he spied the source of the glow which had alerted Sango to its presence. There, undulating in sky above their heads, was a serpentine youkai.
“That is one of Kikyou’s shinidamachu!” Miroku observed.
“What’s she doing here?” Sango growled venomously. Kagome couldn’t bring herself to hate Kikyou for her hold on Inuyasha’s heart, and the heartache she caused the schoolgirl, but Sango had no such inhibitions. It would probably be a good idea to keep the miko and taijiya separated if at all possible.
“I will find out,” he said, starting to walk off in the direction the shinidamachu seemed to be indicating.
“I’ll come too,” Sango declared.
“No, Sango. I think…” he trailed off, searching for a way to put this delicately. “I think the conversation might be more productive if I went alone.”
Sango glared at him, but he saw reluctant agreement in her eyes. Still, she gave him the cold shoulder as she turned and stormed back into the hut. Miroku sighed, wishing Kikyou had come at a time when their tempers weren’t already on edge. Or in the alternative, not come at all. Hopefully Sango would have calmed down be the time he returned. It should be a short meeting; he would tell Kikyou that Inuyasha was not here, and that would be the end of hit. Somehow though, the interactions between the Inu-gang and the miko were never that simple.
A momentary flicker of surprise flashed across Kikyou’s face when he emerged through the trees into the clearing where the dead miko waited. But then her features set in that same expressionless mask as always, and Miroku felt both pity and enmity.
“Houshi-sama,” she greeted respectfully, though her cold glare questioned why he was here instead of the man she wanted to see. It was that glare that sent a shiver down Miroku’s spine; there was a certain malevolence, an anger unexpected. Perhaps Kikyou knew more than she let on.
“Inuyasha is not here, Kikyou-sama. He is…” Miroku paused, wondering how much he should tell Kikyou. He needn’t have worried.
“Inuyasha is on the other side of the bone eater’s well with my reincarnation, is he not?” Kikyou stated darkly, the interrogative clause at the end merely a formality.
Miroku gazed at her in surprise. “How did you know?”
“Do not be so shocked, Houshi-sama,” she replied with bleak humor. “Kagome and I share the same soul. When she departs this world for her own, I can sense it. And when I did not feel her presence for many days, I began to believe that she had finally realized that she did not belong here. Now I see that is not the case.”
“You are wrong, Kikyou-sama,” Miroku answered, feeling protective of the young woman who had become like a sister to him, despite her absence. “Kagome-sama does belong here.”
“It is impossible to belong in two worlds, Houshi-sama. She should return and remain where she was born and raised. She is merely an unwelcome visitor here.”
Miroku bit his tongue, not agreeing with the dead miko by any means, but not desiring to argue with her either. Kikyou was stubborn and bitter. Less so than she had been in the beginning, but still unwilling, perhaps unable, to forgive and forget all the wrongs and ill fate which had been heaped upon her. Trying to tell her that Kagome belonged in this world because she had people here who loved her would be like preaching to a rock.
“So has Inuyasha run off with my copy?” Kikyou demanded acidulously. “Has he forsaken myself and his responsibilities in this world?”
“Inuyasha has never forgotten any of his responsibilities,” Miroku retorted. Kikyou narrowed her eyes at his implication but did not comment on it. “We honestly do not know why he and Kagome-sama have not returned,” the monk said softly. “We believe they may be in danger.”
“I see.” Kikyou stared off to the side for a moment, and Miroku thought he saw a momentary glimmer of genuine concern in her gaze. Then it was gone, replaced once again by the stoic, indifferent mask.
“Then I shall remain here,” the miko declared. “And when Inuyasha returns, I will remind him of whom he is bound to.”
With that, Kikyou turned and began marching into the forest, followed by her shinidamachu. Miroku was torn, his innate kindness warring with logical considerations of what kind of problems a thoughtful offer could lead to here. But ultimately his natural sympathy won out; he hated to see a woman—any woman—so alone and miserable.
“You are welcome to stay in the village, Kikyou-sama. I am sure Kaede-sama would not mind sharing a hut with her sister again.”
Even as he spoke the words, Miroku had trouble believing they were coming out of his mouth. Truth be told, being near the dead miko made him uncomfortable, and not just because of her status as one of the deceased. Her entire form radiated resentment and sadness; she truly was a tragic priestess.
Kikyou paused, but did not turn around. Instead she spoke lowly, so faintly that Miroku almost didn’t hear her.
“I do not belong, Houshi-sama.”
She resumed walking and disappeared through the trees, the glow of her youkai servants gradually fading as the moonlight once more cast its pale glow upon the clearing. Miroku sighed, relieved that Kikyou had rejected his offer, and guilty because he felt that way. Still, he knew it was for the best. Kami forbid Kagome thought they had tried to replace her with Kikyou. The ‘darkness in her heart’ was still there, and he did not want to be responsible for making it larger and more exploitable by their enemies. The idea of hurting Kagome in any way, especially with such a low, if unintentional, emotional blow, filled him with revulsion.
In the more immediate sense, Sango would have been absolutely livid if he’d brought Kikyou back with him. He definitely would’ve had to pull the taijiya out of Kaede’s hut and find another place for them to stay. He allowed himself a smirk as he contemplated all the mischief they could get into if left to sleep in a hut together, just the two of them. Sango wouldn’t allow any of it until they were married, but still, a man could dream. Hopefully, if their friends returned and Naraku was slain, that dream would one day become reality.
Miroku frowned, recalling the argument they were having before Kikyou’s arrival. Specifically, when Sango had asked how long they would wait for Inuyasha and Kagome, and whether they would return at all. He stuck by his own assertion that leaving too soon displayed a lack of faith in their friends, and was highly dangerous to boot. But Sango was also right; they couldn’t wait forever. Naraku would only grow in power while they idled, and who knew what foul schemes he would conjure up in the meantime? How many innocents would die while they waited for their lost companions?
No, the time for argument had passed; a compromise was in order. Hopefully one could be reached which satisfied both of them, giving Inuyasha and Kagome a reasonable opportunity to return while still staying true to their ideals and completing the mission, as Sango had eloquently put it.
The taijiya was sitting quietly against the wall of the hut when he returned, staring into the fire. She glanced at him, her expression much calmer than before, though her eyes were still guarded. He sensed she was regretting the intensity of their argument, as was he, though neither of them was about to back down. But for the moment at least, there was one thing more pressing in Sango’s mind.
“What did Kikyou want?” she ground out, almost spitting the miko’s name.
“What else?” Miroku replied wryly. “But she had also sensed that Kagome-sama had been gone from this world for many days. Through their shared soul, apparently. I believe she was curious—and hopeful—that Kagome-sama’s departure was permanent, and that Inuyasha was ready to go to hell with her. She was none too pleased when I informed her that he was on the other side of the well with Kagome-sama.”
Sango laughed dryly. “No, I don’t imagine she would be. So what did she do, slink off with her tail between her legs?”
“Not exactly,” Miroku answered hesitantly, rubbing the back of his head. This was going to ruin Sango’s lukewarm mood. He would definitely not be telling her about his offer to let Kikyou stay in the village. “She said she would remain in the area until Inuyasha returned.”
“Oh, that’s just perfect. Just what Kagome-chan needs when she comes back!”
Miroku grimaced, thinking of what Kikyou had said about reminding Inuyasha of whom he was bound to. He would keep that little piece of information to himself as well.
“You cannot blame her for worrying about him, Sango.”
The taijiya scoffed. “Is she worried about Inuyasha’s well-being, or whether Kagome-chan has ‘stolen’ him from her?”
Miroku sweatdropped. She hit that one on the head, didn’t she?
“A little of both, I think,” he replied honestly. For Kikyou was not solely driven by resentment; she did care for Inuyasha. Just not in a sense that could compare in any shape or form to the devotion shown by her reincarnation. She wanted the hanyou to live, if only long enough so they could journey into the afterlife together. Unfortunately, in her embittered state, that selfishness probably outweighed any genuine concern Kikyou felt. But still, he could not brand Kikyou ‘evil,’ just as he could not label either he or Sango completely right or wrong. Few things in life were so black and white.
Sango sighed. “I just hope she doesn’t cause too much trouble when Inuyasha and Kagome-chan come back. Speaking of which,” she stated, her tone hardening, “about what you said earlier, I refuse to believe the two of us are so useless that it’s a foregone conclusion we’ll be butchered by Naraku if we meet him. We cannot remain in this village, not while innocent blood is being spilt.”
“I agree with you,” Miroku replied affably.
“It doesn’t matter! We—wait, what?” the slayer asked, staring at him as if he’d just sprouted another head.
“I said I agree with you. I thought about it on the way back, and realized you were partially right. I am sure you had time to reflect and realize I was partially right as well.” At Sango’s reluctant nod, he continued. “We cannot wait here forever, but we must also give Inuyasha and Kagome-sama a fair chance to return before leaving. Why don’t we try to compromise?”
“Alright,” Sango answered, crossing her arms over her chest. “Why don’t we head out on the morning after the next new moon?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of the new moon after that.”
“Split the difference; the next full moon.”
“Agreed.”
“Good.”
Silence settled between the pair, both apparently surprised a settlement had been reached so quickly. Sango had initially intended to persuade Miroku to leave with her tomorrow, or even depart without him if he refused, but after hearing his opinion, she had been willing to compromise. In retrospect, the extra twenty-or-so days were probably a good thing. If Inuyasha and Kagome had not returned by the next full moon, it truly would be time to assume the worst.
It was this depressing thought which caused Sango to furrow her brow and stare pensively into the fire. Miroku could guess which dark road her mind was going down, but there was little he could say to reassure her. Perhaps that was why he suddenly adopted a rather lecherous grin, only somewhat forced, and sauntered over to her.
“You know, Sango, I’ve been thinking,” he began, smiling wider at the look of sudden panic which crossed her features. “Do you ever get tired of sharing a room with an old woman and a kitsune? Wouldn’t it be more…enjoyable to have our own place to live, just the two of us? What do you say?”
Sango promptly flushed beat red, from a combination of embarrassment and anger. Now, the question itself was not too upsetting; they had promised to live together—and by implication, get married—eventually, after all. But that infernal hand on her backside! Couldn’t he ever just talk to her? A question, even a perverted one, would be fine without a complementary grope! It was this righteous indignation which fueled the sudden tightening of her arm muscles, and sent her palm speeding toward her lecherous fiancé’s cheek.
*SLAP!*
The rest of the evening passed in relative peace. Miroku nursed his sore cheek in good spirits, mostly due to the way Sango continually drifted into thought, often blushing as she came back to reality. He had certainly given her something else to think about besides her apprehension for their friends in the future. And that made the dull sting on his face, and even the silent treatment from his ‘special woman,’ well worth it.
And there it was. The queen of clubs, the perfect card which turned his hand into a four-card run, a three-card run, and a three-card set.
“Gin,” he declared triumphantly, laying down his hand and tossing the three of diamonds onto the discard pile.
“Ugh,” Kagome groaned, dropping her cards onto the sleeping bag and her head into her hands. Inuyasha smirked at what he saw; she only had a set of twos! The rest of her hand was a jumble of unfinished runs and incomplete sets. She would have been able to lay off four cards if he hadn’t gone gin; his gamble had paid off big time. Oh, yes, he was getting lots of points this hand.
“At least we’re not putting money on this,” Kagome muttered.
“We could bet something,” Inuyasha proposed. “Like…”
“How noble of you to suggest a wager when you’re already way ahead,” Kagome observed dryly. Inuyasha just shrugged and began counting his points.
When she had first hatched the idea to teach him how to play one of her favorite games, gin rummy, she had not expected him to beat her. Repeatedly. She had, however, known he would pick it up quickly. Inuyasha often behaved like an uncivilized brute, but he was actually quite intelligent. Sure, he was somewhat immature and dense about romantic matters, but his mind was a powerful tool when he chose to use it. He would not have survived as an orphaned outcast on physical strength alone.
The sad part was that few understood this side of Inuyasha; many of the people in his world thought him only slightly smarter than a common beast. And fewer still would have bothered trying to teach him anything even if they believed he possessed the capacity to learn it. So used to this point of view was he, that the first question out of his mouth when she asked if she could teach him a game was, “Is it complicated?”
“Yes, but I know you can get it,” had been her honest answer. He had been shocked, but in the next moment she had seen it—determination, the kind he usually only displayed during the most trying of battles. Because she wanted to teach him, he would listen. And because she believed in him, he would learn.
It was wonderful to see him so focused, so set on validating her faith and proving the rest of the world wrong. He had done both, and proceeded to wipe the floor with her in the process. Now he was telling her how many points he had scored, and adding that to his previous total to discover that he’d won the game, all the while smiling ear to ear. Seeing all that, it was no wonder she was taking her defeat in good humor.
“Beginner’s luck,” she told him teasingly. “I’ll beat you next time.”
“We’ll see, wench.”
From Inuyasha’s perspective, it was as if the world had reversed polarity on him. The utter misery of being forcibly separated from Kagome had now been replaced with the comfortable bliss of having her by his side. He couldn’t forget their ordeal—the very fact that they were out in these strange woods reminded him of it—but the pain was fading with time. Much as the once ugly bruise on Kagome’s face had faded in the three days since their night in the hotel. It was nearly gone now, and Inuyasha was thrilled to see her skin appearing healthy and unblemished once more. He had grown tired of feeling twinges of guilt whenever he looked at her.
Now his emotions could revert back to the way they usually were: somewhat reflective of Kagome’s, whether she was cheerful or angry or scared. But there was a constant, something which had been present for a long time, though he had realized it only recently. Happiness. He was happy, even when she yelled at him or osuwari’d him. Yes, on the surface he would be downright pissed at her, and probably let her know it, but deep down he always cherished her friendship. Now that he thought about it, they’d had fewer arguments recently, less drama in their relationship. Kagome had not even used the kotodama rosary since their reunion in Morioka. Positive developments, he supposed, since their lives had taken certainly taken a dramatic turn.
Of course, it wasn’t all sunshine and flowers. They’d had some relatively minor spats, such as the continuing quarrel over how long he was allowed to carry her each day, and how much time he had to spend walking instead. He did appreciate that she was trying not to overwork him, but she was babying him too much. He could handle running with her for more than a few hours a day! But to his credit, he had put his stubbornness aside and they had reached a tentative compromise. Early morning and late afternoon, when the sun was not high in the sky, were his time. When those periods began and ended, however, continued to be a matter of debate.
And then there had been that first awkward night after their departure from Morioka. Uncomfortable silence had reigned as both wondered about sleeping arrangements, neither willing to broach the subject. Eventually, Kagome had unfurled her sleeping bag and settled down, leaving Inuyasha to his perch in the tree alone. Looking back on it now, the hanyou was glad things had worked out that way. Though he had enjoyed sleeping in the tree with Kagome, he knew he wasn’t ready to do it every night. And he sensed Kagome wasn’t ready either, at least not without a commitment from him which he wasn’t prepared to give.
“I’m going to bed,” Kagome said, yawning and stretching. Inuyasha nodded, standing and striding into the forest. Then he broke into a fast run, though it was only an easy lope for him, winding through the trees in a rough circle around their campsite. He did this every evening before settling down, making sure the area was secure. He was using even more caution than he did in the feudal era. For one thing, he couldn’t rely on strong youkai odors or foreign youki tingling against his skin to alert him to approaching danger. Humans were generally less conspicuous than youkai, so he had to be more vigilant. The fire was always built in an area surrounded on all sides and above by thick foliage.
The coast was clear tonight, as it had been every time he patrolled for danger. But he would not let his guard down; he was the only one keeping Kagome safe, and that was more than enough incentive to make the extra effort. By the time he returned to the campsite, Kagome had removed her jeans and snuggled into her bag. Without pajamas—spending their limited funds on such frivolities was unwise—she had taken to sleeping in shirt and underwear. Now, she made sure he never actually saw her in that state of dress, but it was still quite unsettling to Inuyasha. Not in a bad way; the problem was that his imagination was quite good. It was just enough to make falling asleep a little more difficult than usual. Fortunately, he didn’t need as much shuteye as humans. He could survive on light dozing at night, remaining alert for unnatural sounds. But the first chance he got to really sleep, without keeping a constant vigil, he would probably pass out, as he had done on Kagome’s bed that one time.
He snorted to himself, thinking about how things had changed. Would he ever be able to sleep soundly in this era again?
“Goodnight, Inuyasha,” Kagome mumbled drowsily.
“Keh,” he grunted, adding a few more logs to the fire to help keep her warm. Then, with a lingering glance at her peaceful face, he leapt up to his chosen branch. A small break in the canopy above allowed him to gaze up at the moon, now waning. His time of weakness was approaching, slowly but surely. The last had been just before their adventure with the two villages and the weasel youkai. He hoped they could make it back to Tokyo before it came again. But it comforted him to know that Kagome was not nearly as helpless as she once was. She had proven that she could handle herself in dangerous situations, in two very distinct time periods. Before his eyes she had begun to blossom from a naïve girl into a smart, independent young woman. Granted, it was a work in progress, much like his own admittedly slow maturation process. Some of the stupid things he’d said and done back then…
But all that was in the past. Tonight, today, this whole twenty-first century adventure was about the future, and making sure they still had one. Together, for as long as their companionship would last.
“Goodnight, Kagome,” he whispered, closing his eyes and allowing tranquil slumber to take him.
He had been betrayed; he had mere hours left to live. This was what he felt, so strongly that it was almost unassailable truth. Almost. He had no hard evidence to support this claim, but his instincts screamed at him. It was in the way the status updates from Yoshida’s group had started to come fewer and farther between, and in the mercenary leader’s tone of voice during the last one. It was in the dark, nondescript sedan which still sat outside the building at this very moment, though all the other faculty had left. He was being watched; soon, an order would be given, and someone would put a bullet in his head.
It was a difficult thing for someone who relied so heavily on logic to come to terms with, this seeming paranoia inspired by weak, circumstantial evidence. But logic also lent support to his theory, when he considered Yoshida’s point of view. On their past expeditions to Central America, the mercenaries had been content to do the dirty work while Sasaki remained in charge. They needed his expertise in that foreign environment searching for even more foreign artifacts, and he needed them to deal with superstitious locals and the drug cartels. It was a match made in evildoer’s heaven, and had been quite profitable for all parties.
Their current arrangement, however, was completely different. Sasaki held no illusions; Yoshida had taken over the operation, relegating him to a minor, scientific role while Inuyasha was in custody. Now that the hanyou had escaped, the mercenary captain barely involved him at all. They no longer needed him, his expertise, or his money. In fact, keeping him around had become dangerous. Yoshida knew where the loyalties of his men lay, but to him, Sasaki was a civilian, an unpredictable loose cannon prone to panic. It was true, in a sense, because he had been panicking a short while ago.
Now, however, with logic soothingly on his side, he felt far more comfortable listening to his instincts. And with that decision, another became clear. He had to go to the police. Doing so would put everything out in the open, deprive him of the glory of his discovery, and expose him to potential criminal charges such as kidnapping, murder, and whatever offense covered rape of the mind these days. But as a cooperating witness with an excellent lawyer on retainer, he could probably avoid doing hard time. He had wealth and a brilliant mind; if the universities rejected him, other doors would open. And what if he stayed the course and did nothing? If he was wrong about Yoshida’s intentions, then he would keep alive his dreams of fame, as well as his share of the money. If he was right, however, then he would lose everything, including his life. He couldn’t take that risk, not when he was so sure that he had been or soon would be marked for execution.
It did occur to him that his defection would put Yoshida and his lackeys behind bars, even if he had been mistaken about their treachery. But that was a risk Sasaki was willing to take. It was selfish, yes, but he had a lot more to live for than any of them. He was a semi-famous, gifted archaeologist, while they were a collection of misfits and thugs who would all wind up in prison or dead long before old age. Which life was more valuable? Even the life of a young girl, like Kagome, was worth much more than that of Yoshida or any of his mercenaries.
Nodding sharply to himself, Sasaki turned on his computer. He would check his email, and carry on as if he was merely working late, suspecting nothing. Then, very early in the morning, he would make his move, using his car, the subway, and taxis to confuse his pursuers. With any luck, he would reach the safety of the police station before any of his enemies were in position to stop him.
And if a girl and a hanyou, both of whom he had grown fond of, managed to escape in the ensuing chaos, then he would not lament their success.
(1) There is a rummy-type game called Seven Bridge that is popular in Japan. But I don’t play it, and I was unable to find rules online (I guess it’s not played much in the English-speaking world). So I substituted a similar game which I do know how to play, gin rummy. Hope it wasn’t too much of a reach.
Converting /tmp/phpEEZSh4 to /dev/stdout
Defection
Miroku sighed as he watched her pace back and forth, her footfalls on the wood floor like the beat of a war drum before battle. Sango had been irritable lately, and today especially, so much so that he had dared not even attempt a grope since yesterday. With her mood fluctuating wildly yet always in the negative side of the spectrum, she might not be satisfied with a retaliatory slap. But he couldn’t blame her for her frustration, for he was feeling it just as strongly. He was simply better at concealing his emotions than she was, due to his upbringing. Mushin was a drunkard, and a bit of a lecher as well, but the man took his responsibilities and training as a monk very seriously. Or at least he once had, back when it was necessary to instill that same devotion in a young disciple. Miroku was grateful; his kazaana was an awesome weapon, but he much preferred to fight with his spiritual strength and cool head. The latter was called for now. A shouting match with his fiery fiancé was one clash he was almost sure to lose.
“Dammit, Houshi-sama. I am so tired of sitting around and waiting!”
“So am I, Sango. But we must stay here until Inuyasha and Kagome-sama return.”
“For how long? It’s already been almost half a lunar cycle. What if they don’t come back? Have you thought of that?”
Miroku frowned. “Of course I have. But I have faith that they will—”
“Don’t ever question my faith in our friends!” Sango snarled. Then she seemed to recognize the tone of her voice, and her expression softened. She did not wish to take out her frustration on one of her few remaining companions. “It must be a truly dire situation in Kagome-chan’s world that keeps them away from us,” she said quietly.
“And we must be here for them when they return from that ‘dire situation.’”
“Or we could stay true to their ideals and complete our mission! It always happens—we stumble upon trouble through dumb luck. How many people have we saved just by showing up at the right place at the right time?”
“Many, and many of those instances you speak of came about as a result of Kagome-sama’s ability to sense the Shikon no Tama. We no longer have that ability. It would truly be ‘dumb luck’ if we did happen upon trouble.”
“So be it! It’s better than going crazy with worry in this damn village! And there’s always the chance that we find Naraku on the road,” Sango declared, pounding a clenched fist into her palm. “But no chance of that here!”
“Suppose we did run into Naraku. What then? You know as well as I that we are not nearly as formidable without Inuyasha’s sword and Kagome-sama’s bow.”
“I’m not afraid,” Sango insisted darkly.
Now, Miroku’s typical response to that statement would be something to the effect of ‘I know you’re not.’ That was what Sango clearly expected him to say. But he had to get through to her, and to do so he needed to point out something that she would rather not acknowledge.
“Yes you are. Not of Naraku,” he hastily added, curtailing an irate response from the taijiya. “But of failure. I know it, because I fear it as well. And if we go out without our strongest fighter, and our most powerful spiritual presence, the risk of failure, of meaningless death, goes up substantially.”
Sango looked away, but he could see her mind working behind her blazing auburn orbs. He had put it in the terms of a warrior, a strategist, and she understood. But the argument was not over; she opened her mouth to speak, then stopped, her eyes widening as she stared at something behind him. Without a word she darted past him, grabbing her hiraikotsu on her way out of the hut. Miroku heaved himself off the floor and followed, skidding to a stop as he spied the source of the glow which had alerted Sango to its presence. There, undulating in sky above their heads, was a serpentine youkai.
“That is one of Kikyou’s shinidamachu!” Miroku observed.
“What’s she doing here?” Sango growled venomously. Kagome couldn’t bring herself to hate Kikyou for her hold on Inuyasha’s heart, and the heartache she caused the schoolgirl, but Sango had no such inhibitions. It would probably be a good idea to keep the miko and taijiya separated if at all possible.
“I will find out,” he said, starting to walk off in the direction the shinidamachu seemed to be indicating.
“I’ll come too,” Sango declared.
“No, Sango. I think…” he trailed off, searching for a way to put this delicately. “I think the conversation might be more productive if I went alone.”
Sango glared at him, but he saw reluctant agreement in her eyes. Still, she gave him the cold shoulder as she turned and stormed back into the hut. Miroku sighed, wishing Kikyou had come at a time when their tempers weren’t already on edge. Or in the alternative, not come at all. Hopefully Sango would have calmed down be the time he returned. It should be a short meeting; he would tell Kikyou that Inuyasha was not here, and that would be the end of hit. Somehow though, the interactions between the Inu-gang and the miko were never that simple.
A momentary flicker of surprise flashed across Kikyou’s face when he emerged through the trees into the clearing where the dead miko waited. But then her features set in that same expressionless mask as always, and Miroku felt both pity and enmity.
“Houshi-sama,” she greeted respectfully, though her cold glare questioned why he was here instead of the man she wanted to see. It was that glare that sent a shiver down Miroku’s spine; there was a certain malevolence, an anger unexpected. Perhaps Kikyou knew more than she let on.
“Inuyasha is not here, Kikyou-sama. He is…” Miroku paused, wondering how much he should tell Kikyou. He needn’t have worried.
“Inuyasha is on the other side of the bone eater’s well with my reincarnation, is he not?” Kikyou stated darkly, the interrogative clause at the end merely a formality.
Miroku gazed at her in surprise. “How did you know?”
“Do not be so shocked, Houshi-sama,” she replied with bleak humor. “Kagome and I share the same soul. When she departs this world for her own, I can sense it. And when I did not feel her presence for many days, I began to believe that she had finally realized that she did not belong here. Now I see that is not the case.”
“You are wrong, Kikyou-sama,” Miroku answered, feeling protective of the young woman who had become like a sister to him, despite her absence. “Kagome-sama does belong here.”
“It is impossible to belong in two worlds, Houshi-sama. She should return and remain where she was born and raised. She is merely an unwelcome visitor here.”
Miroku bit his tongue, not agreeing with the dead miko by any means, but not desiring to argue with her either. Kikyou was stubborn and bitter. Less so than she had been in the beginning, but still unwilling, perhaps unable, to forgive and forget all the wrongs and ill fate which had been heaped upon her. Trying to tell her that Kagome belonged in this world because she had people here who loved her would be like preaching to a rock.
“So has Inuyasha run off with my copy?” Kikyou demanded acidulously. “Has he forsaken myself and his responsibilities in this world?”
“Inuyasha has never forgotten any of his responsibilities,” Miroku retorted. Kikyou narrowed her eyes at his implication but did not comment on it. “We honestly do not know why he and Kagome-sama have not returned,” the monk said softly. “We believe they may be in danger.”
“I see.” Kikyou stared off to the side for a moment, and Miroku thought he saw a momentary glimmer of genuine concern in her gaze. Then it was gone, replaced once again by the stoic, indifferent mask.
“Then I shall remain here,” the miko declared. “And when Inuyasha returns, I will remind him of whom he is bound to.”
With that, Kikyou turned and began marching into the forest, followed by her shinidamachu. Miroku was torn, his innate kindness warring with logical considerations of what kind of problems a thoughtful offer could lead to here. But ultimately his natural sympathy won out; he hated to see a woman—any woman—so alone and miserable.
“You are welcome to stay in the village, Kikyou-sama. I am sure Kaede-sama would not mind sharing a hut with her sister again.”
Even as he spoke the words, Miroku had trouble believing they were coming out of his mouth. Truth be told, being near the dead miko made him uncomfortable, and not just because of her status as one of the deceased. Her entire form radiated resentment and sadness; she truly was a tragic priestess.
Kikyou paused, but did not turn around. Instead she spoke lowly, so faintly that Miroku almost didn’t hear her.
“I do not belong, Houshi-sama.”
She resumed walking and disappeared through the trees, the glow of her youkai servants gradually fading as the moonlight once more cast its pale glow upon the clearing. Miroku sighed, relieved that Kikyou had rejected his offer, and guilty because he felt that way. Still, he knew it was for the best. Kami forbid Kagome thought they had tried to replace her with Kikyou. The ‘darkness in her heart’ was still there, and he did not want to be responsible for making it larger and more exploitable by their enemies. The idea of hurting Kagome in any way, especially with such a low, if unintentional, emotional blow, filled him with revulsion.
In the more immediate sense, Sango would have been absolutely livid if he’d brought Kikyou back with him. He definitely would’ve had to pull the taijiya out of Kaede’s hut and find another place for them to stay. He allowed himself a smirk as he contemplated all the mischief they could get into if left to sleep in a hut together, just the two of them. Sango wouldn’t allow any of it until they were married, but still, a man could dream. Hopefully, if their friends returned and Naraku was slain, that dream would one day become reality.
Miroku frowned, recalling the argument they were having before Kikyou’s arrival. Specifically, when Sango had asked how long they would wait for Inuyasha and Kagome, and whether they would return at all. He stuck by his own assertion that leaving too soon displayed a lack of faith in their friends, and was highly dangerous to boot. But Sango was also right; they couldn’t wait forever. Naraku would only grow in power while they idled, and who knew what foul schemes he would conjure up in the meantime? How many innocents would die while they waited for their lost companions?
No, the time for argument had passed; a compromise was in order. Hopefully one could be reached which satisfied both of them, giving Inuyasha and Kagome a reasonable opportunity to return while still staying true to their ideals and completing the mission, as Sango had eloquently put it.
The taijiya was sitting quietly against the wall of the hut when he returned, staring into the fire. She glanced at him, her expression much calmer than before, though her eyes were still guarded. He sensed she was regretting the intensity of their argument, as was he, though neither of them was about to back down. But for the moment at least, there was one thing more pressing in Sango’s mind.
“What did Kikyou want?” she ground out, almost spitting the miko’s name.
“What else?” Miroku replied wryly. “But she had also sensed that Kagome-sama had been gone from this world for many days. Through their shared soul, apparently. I believe she was curious—and hopeful—that Kagome-sama’s departure was permanent, and that Inuyasha was ready to go to hell with her. She was none too pleased when I informed her that he was on the other side of the well with Kagome-sama.”
Sango laughed dryly. “No, I don’t imagine she would be. So what did she do, slink off with her tail between her legs?”
“Not exactly,” Miroku answered hesitantly, rubbing the back of his head. This was going to ruin Sango’s lukewarm mood. He would definitely not be telling her about his offer to let Kikyou stay in the village. “She said she would remain in the area until Inuyasha returned.”
“Oh, that’s just perfect. Just what Kagome-chan needs when she comes back!”
Miroku grimaced, thinking of what Kikyou had said about reminding Inuyasha of whom he was bound to. He would keep that little piece of information to himself as well.
“You cannot blame her for worrying about him, Sango.”
The taijiya scoffed. “Is she worried about Inuyasha’s well-being, or whether Kagome-chan has ‘stolen’ him from her?”
Miroku sweatdropped. She hit that one on the head, didn’t she?
“A little of both, I think,” he replied honestly. For Kikyou was not solely driven by resentment; she did care for Inuyasha. Just not in a sense that could compare in any shape or form to the devotion shown by her reincarnation. She wanted the hanyou to live, if only long enough so they could journey into the afterlife together. Unfortunately, in her embittered state, that selfishness probably outweighed any genuine concern Kikyou felt. But still, he could not brand Kikyou ‘evil,’ just as he could not label either he or Sango completely right or wrong. Few things in life were so black and white.
Sango sighed. “I just hope she doesn’t cause too much trouble when Inuyasha and Kagome-chan come back. Speaking of which,” she stated, her tone hardening, “about what you said earlier, I refuse to believe the two of us are so useless that it’s a foregone conclusion we’ll be butchered by Naraku if we meet him. We cannot remain in this village, not while innocent blood is being spilt.”
“I agree with you,” Miroku replied affably.
“It doesn’t matter! We—wait, what?” the slayer asked, staring at him as if he’d just sprouted another head.
“I said I agree with you. I thought about it on the way back, and realized you were partially right. I am sure you had time to reflect and realize I was partially right as well.” At Sango’s reluctant nod, he continued. “We cannot wait here forever, but we must also give Inuyasha and Kagome-sama a fair chance to return before leaving. Why don’t we try to compromise?”
“Alright,” Sango answered, crossing her arms over her chest. “Why don’t we head out on the morning after the next new moon?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of the new moon after that.”
“Split the difference; the next full moon.”
“Agreed.”
“Good.”
Silence settled between the pair, both apparently surprised a settlement had been reached so quickly. Sango had initially intended to persuade Miroku to leave with her tomorrow, or even depart without him if he refused, but after hearing his opinion, she had been willing to compromise. In retrospect, the extra twenty-or-so days were probably a good thing. If Inuyasha and Kagome had not returned by the next full moon, it truly would be time to assume the worst.
It was this depressing thought which caused Sango to furrow her brow and stare pensively into the fire. Miroku could guess which dark road her mind was going down, but there was little he could say to reassure her. Perhaps that was why he suddenly adopted a rather lecherous grin, only somewhat forced, and sauntered over to her.
“You know, Sango, I’ve been thinking,” he began, smiling wider at the look of sudden panic which crossed her features. “Do you ever get tired of sharing a room with an old woman and a kitsune? Wouldn’t it be more…enjoyable to have our own place to live, just the two of us? What do you say?”
Sango promptly flushed beat red, from a combination of embarrassment and anger. Now, the question itself was not too upsetting; they had promised to live together—and by implication, get married—eventually, after all. But that infernal hand on her backside! Couldn’t he ever just talk to her? A question, even a perverted one, would be fine without a complementary grope! It was this righteous indignation which fueled the sudden tightening of her arm muscles, and sent her palm speeding toward her lecherous fiancé’s cheek.
*SLAP!*
The rest of the evening passed in relative peace. Miroku nursed his sore cheek in good spirits, mostly due to the way Sango continually drifted into thought, often blushing as she came back to reality. He had certainly given her something else to think about besides her apprehension for their friends in the future. And that made the dull sting on his face, and even the silent treatment from his ‘special woman,’ well worth it.
* * *
Inuyasha studied his opponent, silhouetted against the flickering firelight. After carefully weighing her options, she laid down a four of clubs. No help there. He had an eight-nine-ten-jack-queen run in hearts, a nine-ten-jack-queen run in spades, and a lonely three of diamonds. He could have knocked five cards ago, but was trying for gin instead. The odds weren’t great that he would get a queen or a card to add onto one of his runs, but Kagome didn’t seem pleased with her hand, so he was comfortable taking the risk. And yes, he was using his hanyou senses to gauge his opponent’s opinion of her hand. Perhaps the tactic was a little underhanded, but he was new at this game, and Kagome had known what she was getting into when she started playing cards with a hanyou. Mentally praying for luck, he reached for the stock pile. (1)And there it was. The queen of clubs, the perfect card which turned his hand into a four-card run, a three-card run, and a three-card set.
“Gin,” he declared triumphantly, laying down his hand and tossing the three of diamonds onto the discard pile.
“Ugh,” Kagome groaned, dropping her cards onto the sleeping bag and her head into her hands. Inuyasha smirked at what he saw; she only had a set of twos! The rest of her hand was a jumble of unfinished runs and incomplete sets. She would have been able to lay off four cards if he hadn’t gone gin; his gamble had paid off big time. Oh, yes, he was getting lots of points this hand.
“At least we’re not putting money on this,” Kagome muttered.
“We could bet something,” Inuyasha proposed. “Like…”
“How noble of you to suggest a wager when you’re already way ahead,” Kagome observed dryly. Inuyasha just shrugged and began counting his points.
When she had first hatched the idea to teach him how to play one of her favorite games, gin rummy, she had not expected him to beat her. Repeatedly. She had, however, known he would pick it up quickly. Inuyasha often behaved like an uncivilized brute, but he was actually quite intelligent. Sure, he was somewhat immature and dense about romantic matters, but his mind was a powerful tool when he chose to use it. He would not have survived as an orphaned outcast on physical strength alone.
The sad part was that few understood this side of Inuyasha; many of the people in his world thought him only slightly smarter than a common beast. And fewer still would have bothered trying to teach him anything even if they believed he possessed the capacity to learn it. So used to this point of view was he, that the first question out of his mouth when she asked if she could teach him a game was, “Is it complicated?”
“Yes, but I know you can get it,” had been her honest answer. He had been shocked, but in the next moment she had seen it—determination, the kind he usually only displayed during the most trying of battles. Because she wanted to teach him, he would listen. And because she believed in him, he would learn.
It was wonderful to see him so focused, so set on validating her faith and proving the rest of the world wrong. He had done both, and proceeded to wipe the floor with her in the process. Now he was telling her how many points he had scored, and adding that to his previous total to discover that he’d won the game, all the while smiling ear to ear. Seeing all that, it was no wonder she was taking her defeat in good humor.
“Beginner’s luck,” she told him teasingly. “I’ll beat you next time.”
“We’ll see, wench.”
From Inuyasha’s perspective, it was as if the world had reversed polarity on him. The utter misery of being forcibly separated from Kagome had now been replaced with the comfortable bliss of having her by his side. He couldn’t forget their ordeal—the very fact that they were out in these strange woods reminded him of it—but the pain was fading with time. Much as the once ugly bruise on Kagome’s face had faded in the three days since their night in the hotel. It was nearly gone now, and Inuyasha was thrilled to see her skin appearing healthy and unblemished once more. He had grown tired of feeling twinges of guilt whenever he looked at her.
Now his emotions could revert back to the way they usually were: somewhat reflective of Kagome’s, whether she was cheerful or angry or scared. But there was a constant, something which had been present for a long time, though he had realized it only recently. Happiness. He was happy, even when she yelled at him or osuwari’d him. Yes, on the surface he would be downright pissed at her, and probably let her know it, but deep down he always cherished her friendship. Now that he thought about it, they’d had fewer arguments recently, less drama in their relationship. Kagome had not even used the kotodama rosary since their reunion in Morioka. Positive developments, he supposed, since their lives had taken certainly taken a dramatic turn.
Of course, it wasn’t all sunshine and flowers. They’d had some relatively minor spats, such as the continuing quarrel over how long he was allowed to carry her each day, and how much time he had to spend walking instead. He did appreciate that she was trying not to overwork him, but she was babying him too much. He could handle running with her for more than a few hours a day! But to his credit, he had put his stubbornness aside and they had reached a tentative compromise. Early morning and late afternoon, when the sun was not high in the sky, were his time. When those periods began and ended, however, continued to be a matter of debate.
And then there had been that first awkward night after their departure from Morioka. Uncomfortable silence had reigned as both wondered about sleeping arrangements, neither willing to broach the subject. Eventually, Kagome had unfurled her sleeping bag and settled down, leaving Inuyasha to his perch in the tree alone. Looking back on it now, the hanyou was glad things had worked out that way. Though he had enjoyed sleeping in the tree with Kagome, he knew he wasn’t ready to do it every night. And he sensed Kagome wasn’t ready either, at least not without a commitment from him which he wasn’t prepared to give.
“I’m going to bed,” Kagome said, yawning and stretching. Inuyasha nodded, standing and striding into the forest. Then he broke into a fast run, though it was only an easy lope for him, winding through the trees in a rough circle around their campsite. He did this every evening before settling down, making sure the area was secure. He was using even more caution than he did in the feudal era. For one thing, he couldn’t rely on strong youkai odors or foreign youki tingling against his skin to alert him to approaching danger. Humans were generally less conspicuous than youkai, so he had to be more vigilant. The fire was always built in an area surrounded on all sides and above by thick foliage.
The coast was clear tonight, as it had been every time he patrolled for danger. But he would not let his guard down; he was the only one keeping Kagome safe, and that was more than enough incentive to make the extra effort. By the time he returned to the campsite, Kagome had removed her jeans and snuggled into her bag. Without pajamas—spending their limited funds on such frivolities was unwise—she had taken to sleeping in shirt and underwear. Now, she made sure he never actually saw her in that state of dress, but it was still quite unsettling to Inuyasha. Not in a bad way; the problem was that his imagination was quite good. It was just enough to make falling asleep a little more difficult than usual. Fortunately, he didn’t need as much shuteye as humans. He could survive on light dozing at night, remaining alert for unnatural sounds. But the first chance he got to really sleep, without keeping a constant vigil, he would probably pass out, as he had done on Kagome’s bed that one time.
He snorted to himself, thinking about how things had changed. Would he ever be able to sleep soundly in this era again?
“Goodnight, Inuyasha,” Kagome mumbled drowsily.
“Keh,” he grunted, adding a few more logs to the fire to help keep her warm. Then, with a lingering glance at her peaceful face, he leapt up to his chosen branch. A small break in the canopy above allowed him to gaze up at the moon, now waning. His time of weakness was approaching, slowly but surely. The last had been just before their adventure with the two villages and the weasel youkai. He hoped they could make it back to Tokyo before it came again. But it comforted him to know that Kagome was not nearly as helpless as she once was. She had proven that she could handle herself in dangerous situations, in two very distinct time periods. Before his eyes she had begun to blossom from a naïve girl into a smart, independent young woman. Granted, it was a work in progress, much like his own admittedly slow maturation process. Some of the stupid things he’d said and done back then…
But all that was in the past. Tonight, today, this whole twenty-first century adventure was about the future, and making sure they still had one. Together, for as long as their companionship would last.
“Goodnight, Kagome,” he whispered, closing his eyes and allowing tranquil slumber to take him.
* * *
Sasaki Kurou reclined in his desk chair, the ceiling lights off, the solitary lamp casting shadows across his dimly lit office at Iwate University. His fingers were steepled together, his brown eyes gazing unseeingly at the door opposite him. But though his posture was relaxed, his mind had worked itself into a frenzy. He had been betrayed; he had mere hours left to live. This was what he felt, so strongly that it was almost unassailable truth. Almost. He had no hard evidence to support this claim, but his instincts screamed at him. It was in the way the status updates from Yoshida’s group had started to come fewer and farther between, and in the mercenary leader’s tone of voice during the last one. It was in the dark, nondescript sedan which still sat outside the building at this very moment, though all the other faculty had left. He was being watched; soon, an order would be given, and someone would put a bullet in his head.
It was a difficult thing for someone who relied so heavily on logic to come to terms with, this seeming paranoia inspired by weak, circumstantial evidence. But logic also lent support to his theory, when he considered Yoshida’s point of view. On their past expeditions to Central America, the mercenaries had been content to do the dirty work while Sasaki remained in charge. They needed his expertise in that foreign environment searching for even more foreign artifacts, and he needed them to deal with superstitious locals and the drug cartels. It was a match made in evildoer’s heaven, and had been quite profitable for all parties.
Their current arrangement, however, was completely different. Sasaki held no illusions; Yoshida had taken over the operation, relegating him to a minor, scientific role while Inuyasha was in custody. Now that the hanyou had escaped, the mercenary captain barely involved him at all. They no longer needed him, his expertise, or his money. In fact, keeping him around had become dangerous. Yoshida knew where the loyalties of his men lay, but to him, Sasaki was a civilian, an unpredictable loose cannon prone to panic. It was true, in a sense, because he had been panicking a short while ago.
Now, however, with logic soothingly on his side, he felt far more comfortable listening to his instincts. And with that decision, another became clear. He had to go to the police. Doing so would put everything out in the open, deprive him of the glory of his discovery, and expose him to potential criminal charges such as kidnapping, murder, and whatever offense covered rape of the mind these days. But as a cooperating witness with an excellent lawyer on retainer, he could probably avoid doing hard time. He had wealth and a brilliant mind; if the universities rejected him, other doors would open. And what if he stayed the course and did nothing? If he was wrong about Yoshida’s intentions, then he would keep alive his dreams of fame, as well as his share of the money. If he was right, however, then he would lose everything, including his life. He couldn’t take that risk, not when he was so sure that he had been or soon would be marked for execution.
It did occur to him that his defection would put Yoshida and his lackeys behind bars, even if he had been mistaken about their treachery. But that was a risk Sasaki was willing to take. It was selfish, yes, but he had a lot more to live for than any of them. He was a semi-famous, gifted archaeologist, while they were a collection of misfits and thugs who would all wind up in prison or dead long before old age. Which life was more valuable? Even the life of a young girl, like Kagome, was worth much more than that of Yoshida or any of his mercenaries.
Nodding sharply to himself, Sasaki turned on his computer. He would check his email, and carry on as if he was merely working late, suspecting nothing. Then, very early in the morning, he would make his move, using his car, the subway, and taxis to confuse his pursuers. With any luck, he would reach the safety of the police station before any of his enemies were in position to stop him.
And if a girl and a hanyou, both of whom he had grown fond of, managed to escape in the ensuing chaos, then he would not lament their success.
(1) There is a rummy-type game called Seven Bridge that is popular in Japan. But I don’t play it, and I was unable to find rules online (I guess it’s not played much in the English-speaking world). So I substituted a similar game which I do know how to play, gin rummy. Hope it wasn’t too much of a reach.
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