InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Guilty Hero ❯ The Depths of a Mistake ( Chapter 3 )

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Guilty Hero

Chapter 3: The Depths of a Mistake

 

It had been a couple hours since he had first entered the bar, but Inu-Yasha and Iro had yet to speak after their initial greetings. Iro, having known Inu-Yasha for many years, could read the demon's emotions like a book, and could tell from the moment he sat down that it was not the time for idle chit-chat. However, over the course of the past hour Inu-Yasha had downed enough whiskey shots that Iro felt it was safe enough for him to speak.

“Seems you've got a nice burn there,” he said boredly, nodding at Inu-Yasha's left hand, marred from stomach acid. “Been playing with fire?”

Glancing down at his hand, Inu-Yasha frowned and slowly shook his head. “No,” he said shortly, gingerly gripping his glass with tender fingertips. “Acid.”

“Mm.” Iro calmly wiped another glass clean, keeping his expression carefully disinterested. He had never learned what Inu-Yasha did for a living, but never had the desire to know. Whatever strange wounds the demon showed up at his bar with was Inu-Yasha's business.

Inu-Yasha had spent the entirety of his time in the Cornerstone Tap that evening glaring at the bar top with a terrible frown, pausing once in a while to take a drag of a cigarette or to swallow an entire shot of whiskey in a gulp. It was obvious that he was agitated over something, but he was refusing to say a word.

Iro didn't try to push his luck by attempting to continue their conversation; he simply picked up the whiskey bottle to freshen the demon's drink. However, he paused with the bottle suspended over the shot glass. Inu-Yasha suddenly snapped his head up to glower at him, irritated by the delay.

“You got a ride home?” Iro asked sternly, despite the demon's temper. It wasn't often he allowed Inu-Yasha to drink himself to unconsciousness at the Tap; health inspectors tended to perform surprise visits on the bar, and having a drunken half-demon passed out in his break room never helped his evaluation.

For the first time that evening, Inu-Yasha's angry expression eased as he stared stupidly at Iro. He hadn't even thought about going home. Carefully, he shook his head, not wanting to make himself more lightheaded than he already was. “No… I guess I'm walkin'…”

Iro frowned. “Then I'm cutting you off. If you're walking—hang on.” He peered out the window of the bar where a pair of headlights from a black car drove up and parked in front of the bar. “I think your two friends just pulled up.” Thinking Inu-Yasha would be pleased by the arrival of a ride home, Iro filled his shot glass one final time. “One for the road, then.”

Rather than brightening, Inu-Yasha's glare returned as fast as it had disappeared, and a snarl tugged at his lips. He understood who Iro meant when he said `two friends'—Sango and Miroku had hauled his drunken ass home from the Cornerstone Tap often enough that Iro was on speaking terms with them. But tonight, those two were the last people he wanted to see.

A slight growl escaped from his throat when he heard the door open, and he grabbed for his whiskey and drained the entire glass to keep himself from launching at them in his anger. Already his hackles were raising, and his teeth were clenched around his cigarette behind tight lips in an attempt to control himself.

“Evening, Iro,” Sango said lightly, leaning against the bar and trying to sound unconcerned. “How's business this evening?”

“Just fine, thanks to your pal, here.” He held up the whiskey bottle, where almost a quarter of it had been consumed by Inu-Yasha that evening.

“Ah, yes,” Miroku said knowingly, coming up to stand next to Inu-Yasha. “Nothing like a drink after a hard day's work, right?” He directed his question to the demon, and, despite his casual tone, Inu-Yasha detected a slight waver in his voice.

Inu-Yasha didn't even trust himself to look at Miroku. Obstinately staring straight ahead, he inhaled deeply, then blew a cloud of smoke from his nose. It made for an intimidating performance, he knew, as he used it as a tactic to frighten lesser demons that he fought. Sango and Miroku were normally immune to such techniques, but now he could smell the guilt and fear rolling off them in waves, and he knew they were not as at ease as they appeared to be.

“U-um…” Clearing his throat after a minute where Inu-Yasha refused to speak, Miroku said haltingly, “We, uh, came to give you a ride home. We…” He glanced nervously at Sango who, although looking terrified herself, urged him on with a nod. “We thought you may not be in the best shape to, um, make it home yourself… Fighting a, er, I mean, working so hard while wounded… You must be exhausted. So, we thought we'd pick you up.”

When Inu-Yasha finally turned to look at them, they both involuntarily took a step back, for his expression was petrifying. Fury was etched in his eyes; unbridled, cold fury.

“Did you?” he whispered softly. “That's so nice.”

Just from those five words, Sango and Miroku were terrified into silence, rooted to the floor. Miroku even considered making a break for the door, but he was afraid the demon would take him down before he even made it two steps. Sango could feel a bead of nervous sweat trickle down the side of her face and felt her muscles tighten as her body unconsciously prepared to defend itself from an attack. The tension in the air increased tenfold as Inu-Yasha stared unblinkingly at them, as though daring them to make a move.

Even Iro, who hadn't the faintest inkling of what was happening, could feel the pressure in the air change, sending shivers down his spine. Recognizing all of the warning signs that a fight was going to break out soon, he spoke up, hoping to get all of them out of his bar before the inevitable happened. “Uh…” Turning to Inu-Yasha, he asked, “Do you want to pay your bill now?”

The tension in the air broke when Inu-Yasha slowly turned his attention from Sango and Miroku and onto Iro, sighing heavily and grinding his cigarette in the ashtray. “Guess so…” he muttered, reaching for his wallet.

Sango, though still terrified, quickly spoke up, seeing this as an opportunity to get on his good side. “W-we'll get it, Inu-Yasha!”

“I can pay for my own damn tab!” he snapped harshly, his tone rising as his cool exterior began to crack. Slamming some bills on the counter so hard that it made his empty shot glass jump, he surged to his feet, then swayed from the sudden movement; all the whiskey he had drunk that evening was rushing to his head. However, when Miroku stepped forward and took his arm to steady him, he snarled and shoved Miroku aside at the sudden contact. Then, glaring at them as though daring them to help, he stumbled out of the Cornerstone Tap and let himself into the backseat of Miroku's car.

Though the tension dissipated completely when the demon left the establishment, Sango and Miroku's fear was quite obvious to Iro, for they were pale and wide-eyed, staring out after the demon. “You sure you can handle him this evening?” the bartender asked, looking back and forth between the two.

“No…” Miroku said shakily, straightening his coat and tie and bracing himself to leave. “But we deserve whatever he deals us…” With that, he left the bar, Sango following slowly behind.

The short ride to Inu-Yasha's apartment was almost unbearable. The demon spent the entire trip staring silently out the window, anger radiating off him in waves. Miroku's grip on the steering wheel left his knuckles white, and Sango's hands were trembling in her lap. Both were exchanging guilty looks. Things were going dreadfully.

They reached the apartment building after an interminable amount of time. Once the car was off, Sango and Miroku quickly climbed out and hovered nearby, glad for just a moment of relief before Inu-Yasha emerged from the car. He was having a bit of difficultly getting out due to his drunkenness, but nobody dared to lend a hand from fear that it might be torn off. Things grew even a bit worse when he banged his broken arm and hissed in pain, but they still kept away, for his mood had worsened considerably.

Finally, when he was out of the car and walking unsteadily towards the building, Miroku asked hesitantly, “Do you need help up the stairs?” It was a risky move, but if he and Sango didn't go with him now, they would have to walk away without apologizing; despite their fear, their consciences wouldn't allow that.

Not pausing in his wobbling gait, Inu-Yasha muttered, “Come up.” It was clearly a demand, not a request. Sango and Miroku quickly caught up with him and kept close behind as he laboriously climbed the six flights of stairs to his apartment. It took several minutes, and he often overbalanced and would have fallen had Sango or Miroku not been behind to catch him. Each time that occurred, he roughly brushed them aside when he was back on his feet and doggedly continued on, using the wall as support.

At last they made it to the seventh floor where Inu-Yasha opened the door to his apartment, then turned and glared expectantly at them. Once they were inside, he shut the door a bit harder than necessary, making them wince from the noise. Then he walked around to stand in front of them, staying silent for several moments. Even though his eyes were glassy and hazy, Sango and Miroku couldn't help but squirm guiltily from his piercing stare as fear rose in their chests. The inevitable time had arrived.

“You knew,” Inu-Yasha finally spat harshly, causing them to flinch. “You knew all along that it was a human.” Unable to argue, Sango and Miroku nodded, staring at the floor to avoid his gaze, though they could still feel his eyes burning into them.

“Yet you also know…” he continued, his voice beginning to shake with anger,”…that I DO NOT kill humans.”

Once again, they nodded miserably.

“WHY did you lie to me?!” he snarled although it sounded more as though he was being strangled. “Why did you force me to break my vow?!” Looking up in concern, Sango and Miroku saw not only fury, but anguish on the demon's ruddy face, and they began to realize how deeply they had hurt their friend.

“Inu-Yasha, we're sorry!” Miroku cried out at last, horrified by the demon's grieved expression, blended completely with anger. “We thought that you of all people could save the human's life and still obtain the jewel shard from him!”

“We didn't know you had to kill him!” Sango added, her own voice full of regret and guilt.

A growl was ripped from Inu-Yasha's throat. “Fools!” he hissed. “Once your body has begun to transform, there is no way to remove the jewel but by death! You saw him! You must have seen him to know he was a human, so you must've known how far gone he was! You must've known…” Beginning to choke on his own words, stopped speaking and covered his face with a trembling hand, his breathing labored and shallow. Sango and Miroku took a step toward him out of concern, but stopped when he started to speak again, this time his voice low and full of emotion.

“Don't you know…” he murmured softly, “…why I don't kill humans?” Removing his hand, he looked at Sango and Miroku and they could see tears beginning to pool in his bloodshot eyes. Swallowing hard, he said, “Every time I kill a human… All I can see is the day I… k-killed Kikyo, flashing before my eyes. I can hear her cries of pain, I can feel the bullet in my chest, I can smell her blood on my claws… I relive the whole thing…”

Sango and Miroku looked at each other in horror. They had had no idea what Inu-Yasha had gone through just to obtain a jewel shard. Everyone in the Order knew that the day of Naraku's defeat, normally looked upon as a day of celebration by the city and the rest of the Order, was also Inu-Yasha's dark day, the day he had lost everything held dear. It was the day he had yet to return from, and many doubted he ever would return. That day was what Inu-Yasha filled his head with drink to escape from, one day at a time. So to hear that he was forced to not only remember, but relive that day due to their simple-mindedness… Miroku and Sango found the guilt unbearable.

“Inu-Yasha, please…” Sango begged, stepping forward and grabbing his burned hand. “Please, forgive us… We are so sorry… We never knew—“

“Never KNEW?!” Inu-Yasha shouted, tearing his hand away and staring down at her, his eyes flashing angrily. “You two know better than most the hell I go through every god-forsaken day!”

The fear surging through her from his sudden reaction, overbearing her guilt, she tumbled backwards into Miroku, who quickly stepped in front of her to protect her from Inu-Yasha, who looked as though he was about to strike. Inu-Yasha was advancing towards them, forcing them to move back until Sango hit the door. Unable to go further, they could only watch and listen as the demon continued, growing even angrier.

“What you don't know is what it's like to be surrounded by so few people you can trust, people who know you. I used to live my life that way; not trusting anyone. But… I thought I could trust you… I thought I could trust the Order…” Glaring down at them, he was so close they could smell the alcohol on his breath.

“But then again…” he growled, his tone becoming a deadly quiet. “… I thought I could trust Kikyo. And look where that got me!” He backed away, swinging his arm wide to gesture at his dingy apartment and laughing mirthlessly. “I'm just a pathetic, washed-up drunk, who is foolish enough to keep trusting when he should've learned his lesson the first time around!” His voice quieted once again, and his gaze dropped to the floor. He almost sounded like he was talking to himself. “Well. I won't be so foolish again.”

Suddenly, he whipped his head up, with murder in his eyes. Sango and Miroku, who had long since been stunned into silence, cringed in fear as he strode towards them. Miroku involuntarily grabbed the doorknob and turned it, causing him and Sango to spill out into the hallway, landing on the grimy floor of the landing. Inu-Yasha didn't follow after, but stood in the doorway, glaring down at them with a hatred they had never seen directed at them before.

“Don't think you'll be welcome here again,” he rumbled, his tone forbidding discussion. “And consider this my formal resignation from the Order.” And then the door was slammed shut, the force reverberating throughout the landing and stairwell and causing the neighbors above and below to shout out obscenities at the disturbance.

For several minutes they sat on the landing in silence, trembling from the ordeal. Inu-Yasha's reaction had not been what they had expected. What they had expected was one of his drunken rages, full of wild, yet restrainable, violence and harsh insults and curses directed at them that they could easily brush off. But this time was much different. This time he had been hurt almost irreparably. There was the barest glimmer of a hope that things could be reconciled, but the chances of success were more than unlikely.

And it was entirely their fault.

It was the sound of breaking glass from Inu-Yasha's apartment, no doubt due to the demon heaving a liquor bottle or tumbler at a wall, that broke Sango and Miroku's horrified daze. Slowly, Miroku climbed to his feet, then held out a shaky hand for Sango to take. “Come…” he said quietly. “We can do no more damage here today.”

Nodding silently, for she was close to tears, she allowed Miroku to put his arm gently over her shoulders, and together they descended the stairs and went out to his car, wondering what could be done to repair that damage.

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Though both of they knew it was equally the other's fault as their own for their current situation with Inu-Yasha, Miroku could tell that Sango was taking it a good deal harder than he. Even with their numerous duties being second- and third-in-command of the Order, it was clear by how subdued and distracted she was, quick to snap at lower-level workers for disturbing her, yet unable to concentrate on her work when she did have peace. However, Inu-Yasha was never brought up between them until three days later, during some quiet hours of office work in the confines of their own office.

Miroku was quite distracted himself, but not due to his conscience eating away at him like Sango, though guilt did prick at him too many times to count during the day. No, he was unable to concentrate due to the fact that he had not made a pass at Sango in two days. He had attempted to fondle her in his usual teasing manner the day after that horrible night, but she had slapped his cheek so hard that he got a crick in his neck and couldn't turn his head for the rest of the day. He kept away after that, but was now finding it quite difficult to focus when he hadn't proclaimed his love for her after so long. Not that she ever listened to his proclamations anyway, but still…

An incoming fax interrupted his thoughts, and made Sango jump a bit at her own desk. Looking up irritably, she watched as Miroku rolled his chair back and snagged the paper from the machine. After a quick glance, he said, “Ah, our informant has gotten us more assignments. Shall we go over them now, my love?” He blinked, for the term of endearment had slipped out unexpectedly, but he tried to be nonchalant. All he earned was a disapproving glare, minus the playful twinkle in her eye that usually accompanied the look. However, she sighed and pulled out their list of fighters on hand, ready to assign each one to a new task.

“Go ahead.”

With a slight frown at her rather low-key response, Miroku said tiredly, “Let's see… It's seems there's a small-fry imp who's pick-pocketing in the Business District. Shall we send Koga or Kohaku to put a stop to it?”

“Kohaku,” Sango replied, making a mark on her list. “He's more subtle than that brazen wolf.”

“All right.” Miroku checked off the first task, then moved to the second one on the sheet. “There's a demon cat who's started to take on larger prey than usual near the docks. Hmm…” He tapped his pen thoughtfully against his lips. “A demon gaining more power? It sounds as though there might be a jewel shard involved…”

Almost immediately, he regretted saying that. Practically all the `jewel' assignments were given to Inu-Yasha due to the demon's ability to sniff out the jewel's position in the demon's body.

Quickly, Sango cleared her throat and said, “What if we give this one to Koga?”

Miroku shook his head. “I don't doubt his strength, but cat demons are slippery devils. He doesn't know the district well enough to find all the nooks and crannies the cat could sneak in to. It would take him ages.”

“Hmm…”

They fell quiet, discomfort settling about them. Finally, Miroku sighed and said, “I know we're both thinking it, so I'll just say it: I wish Inu-Yasha was here.”

Sango set down her pencil and paper, hanging her head. “I still feel just awful…” she whispered. “I never expected him to react the way he did.”

“Yes, but we brought this upon ourselves. We took the risk, and now we are paying dearly for it.” Miroku regretted having to say such things to the clearly aggrieved Sango, but it was the truth. Still, seeing Sango upset worried him, and he tried to think of something that might ease her guilt.

Thinking in silence for a moment as Sango sat miserably at her desk, he finally set his pen down and reached for the phone. “How about we call him?” he suggested hopefully. “He'll probably still be furious, of course, but we can use… oh, I don't know, we can ask about his wounds if we need an excuse.”

Seeming to brighten at the thought of having another opportunity to apologize, Sango said, “Actually, I really am concerned about his injuries. They still hadn't healed after two days, right? That's not normal.”

“No. It's not. So let's ask him about it, shall we?” Pleased to see Sango get up from her desk and move over to hover expectantly behind his chair, he punched in Inu-Yasha's number, then put his phone on speaker so they both could hear…

Swallowing a large gulp of whiskey, Inu-Yasha groaned a bit as it burned down his throat, but the groan quickly transformed into a cough. It was a harsh, wet cough that had developed the day before, and it happened often enough to irritate him thoroughly. Once the choking subsided, he moaned and reclined back in the couch, washing it down with another drink of whiskey straight out of the bottle, the liquor doing an effective job of distracting him from the annoyance.

Sighing, he gazed blearily at the blank television set, sinking easily into an alcohol-induced stupor. Since Sango and Miroku had left three days ago, he had been trying to find solace by climbing into a whiskey bottle, and by early evening on this third day, his near-empty second bottle was held loosely in his left hand, his fingers still raw and red from burns.

The jarring ring of the telephone made him start, and he growled as the sudden movement irritated the puncture wounds on his neck. Blinking stupidly at the offending appliance, he reluctantly released his grip on the bottleneck and reached for the phone, having to make a few attempts before successfully grasping it and bringing it to his ear…

After waiting through five rings, which was an excruciating amount of time for the anxious Sango, she squeezed Miroku's shoulder in relief when the demon finally picked up.

“…Whozit…?” came the slurred voice from the other end, sounding scratchy and rough through the speakers.

Passing a knowing glance to Sango, for both could easily tell the condition their friend was in, Miroku leaned in towards the receiver, making sure to speak slow so the demon's sluggish mind could keep up. “It's me, Miroku. Sango is here as well.”

Silence was the response to their greeting. After waiting a moment for a reply that never came, Sango said loudly, “We're calling because we were concerned about your wounds, Inu-Yasha. Have they healed at all?”

Once again, silence.

Looking back at Sango, Miroku was surprised to see tears already filling her eyes from the rejection. Her conscience was clearly eating away at her when, the normally unflappable, stony-faced Sango, was reduced to tears after such a short, one-sided conversation. Frustrated by this, Miroku turned his attention to the telephone.

“Look, Inu-Yasha,” he began. “I know you're still mad at us, as you have every right in the world to be. However, please listen to us when we say that we are sorry. For everything.”

“Yes,” Sango quickly jumped in, seeing as Miroku had opened the topic for her. “We honestly did not know what you had to go through to kill a human. And we also thought that you would be able to obtain the shard without having to kill him. It was why we gave you the assignment in the first place; you, out of all the demons we have working for us, would give it your best shot to save that man's life. But we didn't know that it was possible to transform too far with the jewel's power. We're so sorry…” She was growing too choked up to speak, so Miroku gently took her hand and stepped in.

“Well, Inu-Yasha? We're not asking you to forgive our actions. Just… can you accept our apology?”

On the other end, as soon as he heard who had called him, Inu-Yasha simply let the phone slide out of his fingers where it dangled off the edge of the side table by its cord, not even bothering to hang up. He had long since forgotten about his anger towards the two, thanks to the copious amount of alcohol he'd drunk, but he simply had no desire to have any contact with them whatsoever.

After another dreadful coughing fit that left him panting for breath, he took a careful swallow from his bottle and reclined back in the couch once again, trying to return to his previous pastime of staring blankly at the television. However, it was difficult to concentrate when the obnoxious buzz of voices continued to emerge from the dangling phone. With a slight glare at the blurry outline of his receiver, he growled slightly and fixed attention to the wounds on his neck. Fingering the bandages, which had long since grown stiff with dried blood, he scratched absent-mindedly at them. The punctures had been hot and itchy for some time now, but he hadn't bothered to clean and re-dress them. No, his body would heal on its own, so why bother wasting time?

Glancing irritably at the phone once again, which was still buzzing with voice, he took one last gulp of whiskey, then, with surprising force for one so drunk, smashed the bottle on the phone, which instantly went dead.

Sango and Miroku both flinched when a loud crash unexpectedly broke the pregnant silence after Miroku's last question, and then they received nothing else but a dial tone. Slowly setting the phone back in its cradle, Miroku sat with his hand on the receiver, almost frightened to look at Sango. “I guess he didn't feel like having a conversation right now…” he said, trying to make light of the conversation and rather failing in his attempt. “We can try again tomorrow, I suppose…”

A slight sniffle came from behind him, and Miroku knew that Sango had a very fragile grip on her emotions. He quickly got to his feet and drew her into his embrace, resting his chin on the top of her head as she began to weep into his shoulder.

“Don't worry…” he said soothingly, stroking her hair. “Things will get better between the three of us. Our mistake can be overcome.”

“How?” Sango murmured into his arm, still crying from the ordeal. “How can we fix the damage dealt?”

Miroku smiled sadly. “It's just too soon, right now,” he said softly, tightening his embrace. “The events are still fresh in Inu-Yasha's mind. His heart is weak, and it takes a very long time for him to work past a wrongdoing done unto him. But as long as we don't give up on him, he can't give up on us.”

The simple clarity of that statement broke through Sango's troubled thoughts. Looking up at Miroku, who was staring patiently at her for her to understand, she wiped her tears and gently pulled out of his arms.

“You're right,” she said, her voice sounding stronger than it had been for the past three days. “We can't let this stop us. It doesn't matter what Inu-Yasha says. As far as I'm concerned, we're still his friends, and he can't keep us away, right?”

A broad smile broke across Miroku's face. “Absolutely,” he replied.

Feeling a bit better, Sango made for her own desk, thinking that she would be able to concentrate on her work. However, as she walked by, she felt a hand find its way onto her bottom, and soon Miroku had a throbbing handprint embedded in his cheek.

“You are so inappropriate,” she hissed, flushing from embarrassment.

Miroku couldn't help but laugh a bit. “I guess you are feeling better, then. Since that is the case, may I invite you to accompany me to dinner this evening? I should hate to eat alone…”

Sango stared at him like he was insane. “What is wrong with you? Do you always grope a girl and then ask her to dinner?”

“Well, not just any girl…” Shrugging into his coat, he walked over to the door and then held out his hand. “Coming?”

Her cheeks still red, she sheepishly collected her own coat and brushed past him, refusing to take his hand. The smile still broad, he shut the door behind themselves.

Yes, he had eased Sango's feelings for now. But he also knew that their resolve would be tested in the days to come, for Inu-Yasha did not give up a grudge easily. However, their friendship with Inu-Yasha was not one to be tossed aside, and Sango had often proved herself to be just as stubborn as the demon himself…

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I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter. Please, review with constructive criticism, as always.