InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Lingering Ghosts ❯ Yesterday's Shadows ( Chapter 2 )

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Chapter 2 - Yesterday's Shadows

 

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Chiyo stormed through the hallways of the castle, marching towards the kitchens, where their guest had last been seen. Her companion, a girl only a year her senior, scampered after her as fast as her delicate kimono would allow.

 

“Why won't you believe me?”

 

“It's just too outrageous, Takara-chan,” Chiyo declared. “I'm not going to believe it until I hear it from his own mouth!”

 

“It's true!” insisted Takara. “I heard it myself - I was in the middle of my tea-serving lesson when I clearly heard Houshi-dono ask one of the serving girls to have his children!”

 

Chiyo rolled her eyes. “No way. He's a monk! A monk wouldn't ask that sort of thing.”

 

As she opened the door leading to the kitchen, she commented over her shoulder, “Besides, aren't monks supposed to be celibate?”

 

When she brought her gaze forward into the room, she was met with the sight of Yasuo's outstretched hand heading directly towards the rear end of an oblivious servant girl.

 

Their eyes locked and they both froze. Yasuo's fingers twitched as if in guilt. Chiyo could only stare dumbstruck at the scene before her.

 

“I told you,” Takara muttered.

 

Yasuo straightened, sticking the offending hand into his sleeve. “Ah… allow me to explain…”

 

Chiyo could only sputter out something that sounded like “sukebe houshi” before she collapsed on the floor in a fit of giggles.

 

.-.

 

Kagome and Inuyasha returned to the village that afternoon, but they only stayed long enough to greet their friends and to hear Shippou's account of the incident with the Furugawa soldiers. Soon afterwards, they had both gone through the Bone-eater's Well and back to Kagome's time. With Naraku out of the way, Kagome was spending most of her days in her own world, and Inuyasha - who was running out of trivial excuses to make her stay in the Feudal Era - often went with her.

 

The pair had not seen Miroku, however. The monk had stayed inside the hut for the remainder of the day, and no one had wanted to intrude on whatever thoughts he was likely mulling over. In front of the samurai, he had presented a calm and humble air; but Sango had not missed the concern that weighed on his face when he'd walked past her, carrying a letter from an aunt he had never met, the summons from a family he had never known.

 

When Sango finally entered the hut that night, she saw Miroku sitting with his back against the far wall, eyes closed and legs crossed in what she had determined to be his “meditation pose.” Not wanting to disrupt his concentration, she considered waiting outside; but the sun was starting to set and with it was departing what little warmth had been found that late autumn day. And so, her baser desires for the hearth and a warm meal won over, and she continued inside as quietly as she could manage, preparing herself for an evening of silence.

 

Shortly after the encounter with Kuromatsu, Shippou had dragged Kohaku to some other part of the village, probably to visit Kaede. When Sango had tried to follow, Kohaku had quickly called out over his shoulder, “I'll be fine, ane-ue! See ya!”

 

He would likely end up staying the night with Shippou in Kaede's hut, as he had done the previous two nights. It upset Sango to have him out of her sight for too long. Deep down she knew that she was being paranoid; yet that did nothing to stop her longing to crawl over to his futon in the middle of the night and hold him tightly, reminding herself that he was alive, reminding Kohaku that he was not alone, that things would get better, that she could never hate him for what he'd done.

 

This urge was especially strong whenever she witnessed his nightmares getting the better of him.

 

It should have helped that Miroku gave no objections to Kohaku receiving most of Sango's attention; but somehow, it was humbling and almost embarrassing for her to know that her husband was willing to be pushed aside in favor of her brother. It felt as though she had to choose between being a good wife and being a good sister, as she could not seem to find that middle ground where she could be both.

 

She sat down heavily beside the fire pit. I must be the worst wife in history.

 

Sango glanced at Miroku out of the corner of her eye and gave a start when she saw him staring back at her.

 

“I'm sorry,” she muttered, embarrassed that she had not noticed his gaze sooner. “Did I disturb you?”

 

“Not at all.” He closed his eyes again. “Your presence gives me comfort.”

 

A light blush flew across her cheeks, and not for the first time she wondered how he could be so calm with her even after she had spent an entire morning fighting with him.

 

She searched about herself for a distraction before her stomach reminded her of that hot meal she'd been thinking of earlier. But just as she began to reach for a cooking pot, she heard movement behind her and soon felt a hand on her shoulder.

 

“Aren't you supposed to be meditating?” she asked as Miroku pushed her hair away so that he could kiss the back of her neck. Her surprise at his sudden show of affection interfered with her attempt at a cold tone.

 

“The wisest of holy men would abandon enlightenment for you,” he murmured, trailing his lips lightly across her skin and leaving goose bumps in his wake.

 

Sango knew that he was sweet-talking her as he had done many other women. She knew, but baser instincts coupled with a love she could not for the life of her understand were fighting her stiff reasoning. She turned her head towards him ever so slightly, and seizing the proffered opening as a hunter would his prey, he leaned forward and pressed his lips firmly to hers. This was certainly not the first kiss they'd shared in the past few weeks, but there was an urgency, a fervor to his touch that she'd not felt before.

 

“H-houshi-sama,” she prompted shakily as his lips danced across her face; she was still quite flustered by his passion, but there was enough purpose in her voice to make him pull away and stare patiently. “Houshi-sama, are you all right?” She felt rather silly asking him that - wasn't he the most serene of all of them, the one that unrest did not tread upon?

 

He closed his eyes and was silent for a moment, and it was only then that Sango noticed how his entire body seemed slumped, how his brows were creased with worry. His face carried an almost pained expression.

 

But the moment was fleeting, and soon he opened his eyes and gave her a mischievous smirk. “Actually, Sango, I was hoping you would provide me with some distraction tonight.” The roguish grin he wore left no doubts as to what kind of distraction he had in mind, and Sango's face turned a deep shade of red.

 

“Houshi-sama!” she exclaimed, fighting the urge to back away. But she didn't protest when he leaned in once again and began to slowly rub her neck.

 

As Miroku peppered her collarbone with kisses, she inquired, her voice unsteady, “Distraction from what?”

 

She felt him let out a long sigh against her neck. “You know, asking something like that sort of defeats the purpose that I'm trying to attain here.”

 

“And who said I wanted to help?” she demanded, pushing him and his troublesome lips away. “How do you know I'm not still angry about what you did this morning?”

 

“Sango,” he spoke softly. There was a plea in his gentle voice, and all at once it struck her that he was still unsettled by the encounter with Kuromatsu.

 

She winced inwardly, suddenly ashamed of her actions. Miroku drove her crazy sometimes, but she cared for him nonetheless. After all he'd done for her, it was the least she could do to help him with whatever was troubling him. She reached out and tentatively placed her hand atop his. “Houshi-sama… what was in that letter?”

 

Miroku said nothing, but reached inside his robes and pulled out the scroll, offering it to her. She accepted it apprehensively and began to read.

 

Miroku,

 

If this letter finds its way into your hands, perhaps I can dare to hope that Fate is finally deciding to show mercy on my family. My name is Furugawa Takara, the wife of your uncle Hiroshi. I am writing to you now to tell you of a very dire situation, and it is my deepest hopes that you will find it in your heart to assist your family when we need you the most.

 

Three months ago, my husband fell ill, and the physicians tell us it is doubtful that he will survive the winter. And just recently, our youngest son Kenji was struck with the same illness that will soon take his father's life.

 

Kenji's brothers were both killed in battle last year, and if he dies as well there will only be one remaining heir to the Furugawa estate - my young daughter, Kumiko. There are plenty of warlords in the surrounding lands who would happily take Kumiko as a wife in order to win control of our clan. But Hiroshi has never trusted such men, and he has always been adamant that our clan be ruled only by a Furugawa.

 

Should sweet Kenji die, there will be but one male heir remaining in the Furugawa family. I speak of you, Miroku, my nephew.

 

Everyone has told me that I seek you in vain, that the son of a monk who is likely a monk himself will have no interest in our affairs. I do not know if Yasuo-dono is still alive. Perhaps even now I am merely writing to a ghost. All I have had to go by, to cling to, is the memory of the name that your father spoke when last we ever saw him. A name is all we have, but perhaps it will be enough.

 

There is very little I can give in exchange for your aid. If your father is dead, as I suspect he is, then at the very least I can offer you a place to come home to.

 

Sango lowered the parchment, wondering what she could possibly say in response to this. At last she decided that the obvious question would work best. “What are you going to do?” she asked softly. “Are you going to go?”

 

“I don't see that I have a choice,” he replied, his gaze lost amidst the flickering flames of the fire pit. “I don't know if there's anything I will be able to do, yet I can't help but feel obligated to at least try.”

 

Sango blinked in surprise. So he feels like it's his duty to help his family, even if he's never met them before. “I see…”

 

An awkward silence reigned as husband and wife sat next to each other by the fire, both feeling miles apart.

 

.-.

 

Bare feet padded swiftly and harshly against the polished floors of the Furugawa castle as Kumiko marched towards her parents' bedchamber. Her smooth hair had fallen from its intricate design and now hung matted about her narrow shoulders. Whatever servants she encountered steered clear of her path; they knew their young mistress well enough to not want to be entangled with her when she was in a tantrum. Though her slight, delicate form wouldn't suggest it, she could manage quite a loud and irritating voice when she so desired.

 

None too gently, she slid open the door to the large bedchamber. But when she looked inside, her pursed lips gradually loosened as her flashing violet eyes became calm. She couldn't hope to remain in a huff with the sight of her recumbent father before her.

 

Kumiko took a long, steadying breath and softly blew it out as she bowed before her parents. “Haha-ue, I'd like to speak with you.”

 

Takara gave her no response, but continued to dab her husband's forehead with a wet cloth, humming softly to him. Kumiko remained bowed, but her gaze stretched up to lock onto her mother.

 

After a tense, silent minute had passed, Takara stood slowly and murmured a farewell to her husband as she walked towards the doorway. Her daughter stepped aside to let her out, closing the door behind her.

 

“I do wish you would not storm into your father's room like that,” said Takara, her smooth voice barely above a whisper. “You know how frail he is. He does not need to be startled.”

 

“I'm sorry, Haha-ue,” replied Kumiko through clenched teeth. No longer faced with the sight of her father's frail body, her initial anger was beginning to resurface.

 

“What was it you wished to discuss?”

 

Kumiko fought the urge to grind her teeth together as she stared hard at her mother. “Kuromatsu-sama has returned,” she stated.

 

Takara did not meet her daughter's fiery gaze, but nodded evenly. “I see. And did he and his soldiers find what they were looking for?”

 

“They found a monk.”

 

If Takara sensed Kumiko's irritation, she gave no indication. “That is well, as it was a monk they were looking for.”

 

“This cousin of mine…” Kumiko folded her arms across her chest. “He's a monk, Haha-ue.”

 

“I expected he would be.”

 

Whatever semblance of calm that Kumiko had managed to erect was shattered in an instant. “Then why did you send for him?” she cried, stomping her foot in emphasis. “What makes you think that some houshi would be interested in our affairs, even if he is related to us? A monk wouldn't know how to manage our lands! A monk wouldn't know how to command our soldiers! You wasted all that time looking for a cousin who probably doesn't care to even meet us when you could've sent Kuromatsu-sama and the others out to look for a cure for Kenji!”

 

At the mention of her son, Takara's countenance became stern, and her eyes snapped open to glare hard at Kumiko. “You forget me, Kumiko. I am the lady of this clan, and I am your mother. I know what is best for our family.”

 

Kumiko entire body was shaking now, and not entirely from anger. Her voice was much lower when she responded: “But what are you going to do about nii-san? You act like he's already dead.”

 

Takara's gaze softened; a shadow of a smile came to her face as she looked upon her daughter and saw another girl in another time. “Your eyes, your face, your spirit… you are so much like her, Kumiko.” With that, she turned back towards the door. As she opened it and stepped inside, Kumiko could barely discern her faint whisper, carried in on a breeze from the past: “Chiyo-chan…”

 

.-.

 

Sango sorted through the food supplies that she and Miroku had, trying to decide how much they would need for the journey to the Furugawa castle. She estimated it would take a little less than a week to get there, riding half of the way on Kirara and walking the rest of the way to give the neko youkai some rest.

 

“Ane-ue?”

 

She glanced up to find Kohaku standing in the doorway, looking somewhat uncomfortable.

 

“What's wrong?” she asked immediately. “Are you all right?” She made to rise, but Kohaku hastily waved at her to stay where she was.

 

“I'm fine, really, I just wanted to talk to you about something.”

 

She waited while he sat down beside her. “Um… ane-ue, I don't want to go to the castle. I'd like to stay here.”

 

Sango blinked in surprise, but covered it with what she hoped was a bright smile. “Oh, that's all right. We don't have to go if you're not up to it. You and I can just-”

 

But Kohaku shook his head, his brows furrowed in concern as he looked away from his sister. “That's not what I meant. I want to stay here. But I think you should go. I think… Miroku-sama needs you right now.”

 

Frowning, she replied slowly, “Oh… are you sure? What if…” What if you have a nightmare and I'm not there to hold you?

 

“I'll be fine. Kaede-sama said I could stay with her.”

 

She smiled again for him. “All right, if that's what you want.” She kept the smile until he had walked out.

 

.-.

 

“Are you sure about this?”

 

Kohaku jumped at the sound of the soft voice behind him. He turned and saw Miroku leaning against the side of the hut, his folded arms holding his shakujou against his shoulder.

 

Pushing himself away from the hut, Miroku started walking towards the forest surrounding the village. “Will you walk with me?” he asked, glancing back.

 

The boy hurried after him, falling into step beside him. When Miroku didn't speak, Kohaku decided to respond to his earlier query. “I… I guess I just want to stay put for a while. I like it here. I'm finally starting to get used to… to living here, and I don't really want to go anywhere else right now.”

 

“Is that all?” Miroku inquired with a small smile.

 

Kohaku's eyes widened for a moment; he kept his gaze fixated on the ground when he replied: “Well… I feel kind of guilty. You and ane-ue hardly spend any time alone together, and I feel like it's my fault.”

 

He was surprised when he felt Miroku's hand on his shoulder, gently turning him to face the older man. “Kohaku, I don't want you to feel guilty about something you can't control.” His voice was soft, but there was a solemnity to it that made Kohaku wonder if his words referred only to the current matter. But that serene smile of his soon returned to his face. “There are things that Sango and I will have to work out together. You shouldn't worry about it too much yourself.”

 

Miroku removed his hand and continued walking. Kohaku stared after him thoughtfully before catching up. “Miroku-sama? I'm curious… what kind of things do you and ane-ue need to work out?”

 

Miroku rubbed his chin musingly. “Oh, just various things that come with marriage, I suppose. For one thing, I can tell that Sango is having trouble dealing with the lack of control she now has.”

 

Kohaku frowned. “Control?”

 

Waving his hand, Miroku responded, “Don't get me wrong, I would never presume to want to control Sango. I value my life too much to do something that foolish. You have to understand - being in love isn't something that allows for much control over your feelings. This loss of control can be overwhelming for some people, especially if they've never experienced that kind of love before.”

 

Brows knitting together, Kohaku said, “I guess this is where you tell me that I'll understand someday?”

 

“I figured it went without saying,” Miroku replied, grinning. He paused then, glancing around at where their aimless path had led them. “Let's go back. Perhaps Sango will have dinner ready for us.”

 

As they made their way back to the village, Miroku gave the young boy a sidelong glance. “So then, you're sure that you want to stay here? We could be gone for several weeks.”

 

“I'll be fine. Kaede-sama said she had plenty of work to keep me busy, and Shippou said he would keep me company.”

 

“I'm glad,” said Miroku softly. “Anyway, when Inuyasha and Kagome-sama get back, I would like for you to tell them where we've gone.” Closing his eyes and raising his chin, he spoke in a wry tone, “Inuyasha does so worry about us when we're not in his sight.”

 

Kohaku gave a small laugh, and together he and his brother-in-law made their way back to the hut where Sango was waiting.

 

.-.-.-.

 

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Translation Stuff (if I'm wrong with any of this, please correct me)

 

Sukebe houshi: perverted monk

Haha-ue: respectful, archaic way of addressing one's mother

Nii-san: way of addressing a brother

Neko: cat

Shakujou: a monk's staff

 

Many thanks go out to gypsymuse and Lady-Sango77 for their kind words. I'm very glad you folks are enjoying this.

 

Feedback (including constructive criticism) is appreciated. Thanks for reading!