InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Okaeri ❯ Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Inuyasha and associated characters are the property of Rumiko Takahashi.

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Chapter 10

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Interlude: Sengoku Jidai

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Miroku leaned on his staff, and rested for a moment, hoping his dizziness would abate. The walk out here had not been that strenuous. He hated feeling this helpless, and it had been two weeks now since the battle. He was healing, but not fast enough for his taste.

 

His head finally cleared, and he became aware that his palm stung where it rubbed against the staff. Shifting the staff to the crook of his arm, he lifted his hand to look at it for the thousandth time, in wonder and disbelief. A circular patch of skin in the center of his palm was as soft and tender as a baby's, and now red in irritation, in contrast to the rough and calloused flesh around it. But it had the normal creases one would find on anyone's hand.

 

I have a future, he thought, gazing at the lines of fate. Before, the lines of his palm had disappeared into the circle of the air void, and had not emerged from it. Now, a destiny was hinted at in the crinkles and grooves of the head line, the heart line, and especially the long and deep life line, all extending across his palm.

 

The loops and crosshatchings of the heart line reminded him of the reason he had struggled out here, past the bounds of the village. Sango.

 

He was deeply worried about her. She had been prepared for so long for the loss of Kohaku, yet when it came it was devastating. Sango's silent mourning had visibly weighed on her, and, he feared, might be impeding her recovery.

 

The consequent disappearance a week ago of Inuyasha and Kagome—particularly Kagome, her confidant—had been a further blow to Sango. She had no family to attend their upcoming marriage ceremony, just their little group—the only family she had. She had spoken of delaying the ceremony if their friends did not return in time from Kagome's land. That did not sit well with him at all, for more than the obvious reasons.

 

Miroku had a bad feeling about the well. Its unusual properties could be discerned by those with training, though he had to admit he wouldn't have given it a second glance before seeing Kagome disappear down it that first time. He had feared the worst after seeing Inuyasha shove her into it, and had been astounded to discover it was actually a portal. One that Inuyasha, at least, seemed to be able to traverse easily.

 

However, after Shippou's hysterical, nearly incoherent account of Inuyasha's struggle to follow Kagome down the well, and their failure to reappear afterwards, he and Kaede had come out here and examined it. Both had reached the same conclusion: the well felt subtly different. What that meant, however, was subject to interpretation.

 

He wasn't exactly sure how Kaede felt about it—she had kept her conjectures mostly to herself, not wishing to trouble the others. He had the sensation of… a purpose fulfilled, perhaps. A balance that had been achieved. And that, he thought privately, boded ill for the return of their friends.

 

He limped forward again, as quietly as he could, and took care to remain behind the cover of the scrubby bushes that dotted the meadow. He stopped behind one he had frequently used to spy on doings at the well, and peered around it cautiously.

 

Sango was sitting beside the well on the soft new grass of spring, Kirara's small form curled next to her, as she mended her taijiya armor. It had been breached with a number of slashes during their fight with Naraku, and she worked on one now, sewing the leather closed with tiny, precise stitches. She appeared to be wholly absorbed in her task, but he carefully did not move, not wishing to be noticed yet. She had come out here every day, in company with Shippou, and waited for Kagome and Inuyasha to return.

 

He frowned slightly. Shippou was not in evidence. That was unusual, and Miroku by long habit made note of anything unusual. The two of them had been fixated on the well for days, and he wondered what might have altered the kitsune child's routine. Certainly Shippou was pining for both Kagome and Inuyasha.

 

While he preferred that Sango not be out here at all while she was recovering from her injuries, it eased his mind that she and Shippou were in one place and could watch out for each other. True, Inuyasha had killed or driven off most of the hostile youkai in the area, but something could have moved in. Alert and observant as Sango was, even she could be taken by surprise…

 

“See something you like, houshi-dono?” came an amused voice behind him.

 

He almost dropped his staff, even as irritation at his own startlement flashed through him. He turned to Kaede, struggling to present a calm expression as he faced the old miko.

 

“Can you doubt it, Kaede-sama?” He turned his head slightly to view Sango; she had not moved or indicated that she had noticed them. He allowed his concern to show in his voice as he glanced back at Kaede. “And yet, this vigil at the well…that I'm not sure I like.”

 

The old woman stepped up beside him, her face settling into its usual seriousness as she peered in its direction. Under her arm was a collecting basket containing bundles of freshly picked herbs; the scent of the plants that rose to his nostrils reminded him of sickness, and did not comfort him despite their pleasantness. She toyed with some of the leaves as she regarded Sango.

 

“It troubles me also.” She was silent for a few moments; a light breeze blew, carrying with it the faint intermittent song of birds from the nearby forest. She turned to the monk, peering at him with her one eye. “Kagome and Inuyasha have been gone for a week. That is not so long. And yet…”

 

“They would have come back by now, if they could,” he finished. “I think so. But perhaps there is some problem on the other end, in Kagome-sama's land, that is delaying them.” He sounded unconvinced, even to himself. In an even lower voice, he added, “Or perhaps it is something more…permanent.”

 

Kaede shook her head, her face somber. “It is too early to say.” She kept her voice low as well. “But this,” and she pointed at the taijiya, “is not healthy, either way. If they come back, we will know. There is no reason to wait here.” She regarded Miroku steadily, pain visible on her weathered face. “And if they are gone, we will miss them, but we will go on, just as Kagome and Inuyasha will go on wherever they are.”

 

He should not have been surprised by the sharp stab of grief he felt at hearing the words finally spoken, that the two might be gone forever. He had drifted through life, and had worked hard to have as few attachments as possible, as was proper for a monk. And yet somehow, like Sango, he had come to regard the others in their tightly-knit little group as his family. Inuyasha's strength and persistence had enabled all of them to see their quest through to the end; Kagome's kindness and optimism had been the glue that held their group together through darkness and disagreement. If they were gone, their little family was sundered.

 

But we will remember them, and go on. And we will make our own family.

 

“I have been thinking,” he said carefully, “that when we are recovered a bit more, say, after we are married, that Sango and I should travel to my master Mushin's temple, see how he is, and stay for a while. I'd like to tell him that my curse is broken, at least. And when we get back, perhaps Inuyasha and Kagome will have returned.” He stared at Sango, whose face and posture bespoke her melancholy even as she bent in concentration over her work.

 

Kaede grunted in agreement. “It may be good for her to be away from reminders from the past, for the time being.”

 

“She has mentioned delaying the wedding.”

 

“Hmm. I am not sure that is a good idea.” The old woman rubbed her chin speculatively. “I don't suppose you think so either, houshi-dono.”

 

“Well, no.” He allowed himself a small smile. “I have been waiting for some time to marry Sango, you see.”

 

Kaede chuckled. “Yes, I see. Perhaps I can talk to her about it tonight.” She paused, her face regaining seriousness, and she looked away, to the well and Sango again. “Though I won't press her. She could be right, and they could be back tomorrow.”

 

If only they would be. He held hope, as they all did, but he was a pragmatic man. He sighed. “You know that I want Inuyasha and Kagome-sama as witnesses to our marriage as much as she. I know that they wouldn't miss it if at all possible. I will wait if that is what she wishes. But I think,” he stared at the old well, silently keeping its secrets, “that we would wait for a long time.”

 

She nodded, her face grave. They stood in silence again for a moment, before she drew in breath to sigh. “We have another to worry about. Have you seen Shippou?”

 

“No, I haven't, actually.” He looked at her keenly. “I had thought he'd be here.”

 

“So had I, and I am concerned that he is not. I came this way to check on both of them.” She looked troubled. “He's been acting strangely.”

 

“How so, Kaede-sama?”

 

“He's been insisting that they will come back, just as Sango has, which is why they've been waiting at the well together. Yesterday, though, he seemed more…angry. That they were staying away on purpose.” Her expression was uneasy. “And this morning, when I asked him if he was going to the well as usual, he didn't want to tell me. He was evasive, as if he had a secret to keep.”

 

Hmm. Unusual. Especially for Shippou, who is terrible at keeping secrets. He frowned. The poor little fellow is having a hard time of it. I will need to sit down and have a serious talk with him.

 

“I'll keep an eye out for him, Kaede-sama, and ask Sango if she's seen him.” He sighed. “At any rate, we should see him tonight for dinner—he won't miss that. We can pry the story out of him then.”

 

She waved in acknowledgement and turned away, heading back in the direction of the village, while he stepped out and began heading for Sango. The heaviness of his thoughts lightened when she looked up and smiled, the sorrow clearing from her pale countenance. His hopes rose; perhaps her recovery could be hastened, if he could only distract her from the painful near past. And he could think of several distractions that she might benefit from…

 

“Miroku!” She had gotten up, and regarded him with hands on hips; a stern look warred with the grin that twitched at her lips and was losing. “You should be resting.”

 

“Ah, but I would rather rest with you, my love,” he teased, and the grin lit her eyes. She walked towards him, the mending forgotten. Kirara got up, yawning, and gave him a knowing look.

 

The smile on the face of the woman he loved was because of him, and for him, and his heart swelled. As he approached, he curled his hand, fingering the lines of fate on his palm again. We have a future. He swung his staff jauntily as he walked towards her, and forgot about all but the delightful prospects of the present.

 

TBC