InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Small Moments ❯ Tricks and Traps ( Chapter 25 )

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The temple was quiet as Miroku and Hachi approached. It was still quite early, so Miroku would not have been surprised to find Mushin sound asleep somewhere. Still, as he entered the temple he called out, "Mushin-sama, are you in? It's me, Miroku."

Sure enough, the old man was sleeping on the floor of the temple's main room, his head pillowed on a sake jug. Irritated, Miroku kicked the jug right out from under him. "Wake up, you drunkard."

Mushin grunted as his head hit the floor. "Oh, it's you," he muttered, sitting up to rub one hand against his sore head. "Still alive, I take it."

"I could say the same thing to you. You're not likely to live long if you keep drinking like that."

Mushin scratched himself. "Did you come here to preach to me?"

Miroku set his irritation aside and told Mushin the story that had brought him back to the temple in such a hurry. While his former companions would have doubted the tale, Mushin listened with what passed for attentiveness from the old drunkard. "The youkai's claws tore the edge of the kazaana," Miroku concluded. "Can you heal it?"

"Let me take a look," Mushin said. He took hold of Miroku's hand and gently prodded at the cloth that covered the kazaana, sliding it back ever so slightly so he could take a look at the damage. He inspected the wound thoroughly, with an air of supreme seriousness, before finally letting Miroku's hand drop. He looked the younger man in the eye and said, "You will die tonight."

Miroku did his best to appear unmoved, but deep inside he felt a flash of panic.

"Kidding, kidding," the old monk assured him a moment later.

"Keep it up and I'll suck you up."

"Now, now. I can heal your injury, but for a while afterward you will have to avoid using the kazaana," Mushin said.

Hachi shuffled around the room to stand behind Miroku; he hadn't expected the tanuki to actually take much interest in what was going on. Ignoring Hachi for now, Miroku asked, "What would happen if I were to use it?"

"The kazaana will widen where it was torn, and you will die sooner." At least the old man didn't try to lie about it. "You know that when the kazaana starts to grow wider, even I won't be able to help you." Miroku made no response. There was nothing to say. "Well then, I'll go prepare some medicine. You go wash the impurities from your body."

"Well, excuse me for being impure," Miroku muttered, but he did as he was told.

He found fresh clothes in a tiny side room, exactly where they had always been, and changed out of his monk's robes and into the plain white ones. It was not far from the temple to a small waterfall where visitors could cleanse themselves. The sound of the water there was familiar, but not welcoming. Miroku had spent some time here as a youth, but no more than he'd had to. He faced the waterfall now as a task that must be tolerated, but not enjoyed in the least.

As he attempted to meditate, he was aware of Hachi lurking around, keeping an eye on him. "If there is something you'd like to say, go ahead and say it," he said without bothering to open his eyes.

Hachi stifled a startled sound. "So, uh, that's the same Mushin that raised you, Master?"

"Yes," Miroku said. He had a feeling this was not the question that Hachi really wanted to ask. "I learned all my bad habits from him."

Hachi murmured something that sounded like, "He doesn't seem so bad," but the water carried the sound away. Miroku did not mind. He found he wasn't much in the mood to talk, anyway.

For a while the only sound was that of the water rushing over the rocks and down the falls. It was almost peaceful. But despite the chill of the water, the torn kazaana in his palm still seemed to burn and pulse. The constant reminder of the danger he was in made it impossible for Miroku to relax.

When he judged that enough time had elapsed for Mushin to finish preparing whatever medicine he thought was necessary, Miroku made his way out from the water and back to the temple. He had guessed correctly; Mushin was waiting when he and Hachi had arrived.

"Wait out here," he murmured to Hachi. The tanuki obeyed, taking Miroku's staff from him and letting Miroku enter the temple alone. When Miroku had taken a seat across from Mushin, the old monk handed him a bowl of strange-smelling liquid.

"Drink up. That's a painkiller," Mushin explained. "You're going to need it."

"A painkiller? What for?"

"I've got to stitch up that tear in your hand. I can't have you moving around and reacting. So drink that, and you'll sleep soundly and feel no pain, and when you wake up your wound will be taken care of."

It sounded like a good idea on the surface, but Miroku was skeptical by nature. "Your hands are shaking," he pointed out.

"Ah, no matter," Mushin said amicably. "I'll just have another drink and that'll take care of that."

However dubious Miroku might be about that, he let Mushin go without much protest. If more alcohol was needed, then more alcohol was needed, he supposed. When Mushin had been gone for a while, Miroku found himself staring at the pain killer. Such a thing could come in handy in battle, but then again if it made him sleep it wouldn't do much good after all. Still, he supposed it would be better to go to sleep than to feel the pain of each stitch Mushin must sew into his hand to close the wound.

The medicine was bitter, but he drank it all. He discarded the bowl and then went to lay down on the mat that Mushin had set out for him. True to Mushin's word, the pain in his hand began to gradually subside, and it was not long before he began to feel drowsy. His whole body felt heavy, and he had the feeling that sleep would be a wondrous thing, but it wasn't enough to stop him from thinking that Mushin had been gone for a long time now.

Just as he was wondering if he should get up and look for the old bastard, Mushin returned. Looming over him, the old man asked, "How are you feeling?"

Miroku sighed. Turning his head to look at Mushin seemed to take a tremendous effort. "Feeling kind of sleepy."

"Then sleep," Mushin said, kneeling beside him. He rested a hand on Miroku's forehead and gently used his thumb and little finger to slide Miroku's eyelids closed. "It'll be done soon."

"Your hand's not shaking anymore," Miroku commented, feeling sleep begin to overtake him.

Even though he dozed, it seemed to him that Mushin said, "Was that easy or what? It seems you have a lot of confidence in this monk, Miroku..."

That seemed odd, though it took him a long time to arrive at that conclusion. Mushin did not normally talk to himself, even when he was quite drunk. When he went on to say that, "Now I'm going to make sure you rest in peace," Miroku knew that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

He wanted desperately to see what was going on, but knew that if he gave himself away now he might just make the situation worse. If he was going to reveal that the medicine had not worked as well as Mushin had thought, he needed to choose the right moment.

He felt the rush of air an instant before the knife cleaved down where he had been lying. Miroku could hardly believe he had managed to roll out of the way in time to avoid having his throat cut; a faint but growing pain in his shoulder, and the sensation of something warm and wet trickling down his arm from his shoulder, told him that he had not escaped unscathed after all.

"Oh," Mushin said, almost laughing, "so you weren't asleep after all."

"Who are you?" Miroku demanded. He did not know what was going on for sure, but he did know that something - or someone - was in control of the old monk, and it was not Mushin. The drunkard's body and voice might be the same as always, but something was definitely not right.

"What are you talking about? I'm Mushin, the man who raised you, of course."

Suddenly, sneaking off in the middle of the night seemed like a bad idea. He should have been more honest with Inuyasha and the others. His former companions would have made short work of whatever was controlling Mushin. But instead of their help, Miroku had only Hachi to rely on now. With that in mind, he began to make his way slowly toward the temple door. Why had he told Hachi to wait outside?

He did not make it far before his body ceased to obey him. Mushin followed patiently, laughing as Miroku collapsed to the floor. "You can't fight the medicine's effects forever. Now that your body is numb and you can no longer move, I'll take my time ending your life."

When Mushin struck again, Miroku somehow found the strength to stagger to his feet and send himself crashing into - and through - the nearest wall. He expected to hit the floor hard, but something squished underneath him, breaking his fall and accompanying it with a pained yelp. "Hachi!" Belatedly, he realized that Mushin's knife had only barely missed him this time. "Hand me my staff."

Hachi grunted. Miroku could feel the tanuki squirming beneath the wall panel, so he scuttled to one side as best he could. A moment later, Hachi popped out from beneath the panel, staff in hand. Miroku seized the weapon just in time to fend off another attack from Mushin. Nearby, Hachi flailed, trying to comprehend why Miroku was bleeding and why his mentor was the one attacking him. Finally, he seemed to arrive at some conclusion and took action.

The next thing Miroku knew, there was smoke everywhere and Hachi was catching hold of him and dragging him away from Mushin. "Climb on my back," the tanuki hissed.

Miroku gritted his teeth and tried, but ended up with less a climb and more of a fall. In the end, that sufficed. As soon as Hachi gauged that Miroku was secure enough on his back, he took off running. He might be a fat and often lazy tanuki, but Hachi knew how to run.

For a few moments Miroku thought they might actually get away, but a bad feeling in the air had begun to grow and as soon as they rounded a corner he saw why. There were youkai perched atop the temple buildings. Lots of youkai.

"Hachi," he said calmly, "Leave me here. Save yourself."

"N-no way! I won't just abandon you."

"Then take a good look around us. There are youkai up there." He could see them lurking around other places now, too, but did not see a need to upset Hachi further. Not when Hachi had turned out to be one person he could actually count on. "If you stay with me, you'll just be killed."

"I guess you're right," Hachi admitted.

"Once the medicine wears off, I'll be able to move again and defend myself, so I'll create a barrier to hold them off until then," Miroku said, doing his best to sound confident enough to convince Hachi to leave. There was no sense in both of them dying here.

As Hachi crept along the temple wall, Miroku realized that the youkai had not actually seen them yet. They must not have begun to gather until he and Hachi had escaped from Mushin. He glanced back once, pain twinging through his injured shoulder as he craned his head around, but there was no sign of the old monk anywhere.

"Where should we go?" Hachi asked.

Miroku needed to find a place that was out of the way, where a protective barrier would not quickly be noticed. Unfortunately the temple did not have a lot of strategic defensive locations. "Take me to my father's grave," he said reluctantly, knowing that the deep depression in the ground with the grave marker standing in its center was likely the only place where the youkai would not search for him.

Whether he sensed Miroku's distaste or not, Hachi did as he was told. Somehow he managed to make it past the youkai without being noticed, and to get them both down the slope without falling. When they had reached the bottom he helped Miroku, as gently as possible, to take a seat with his back to the grave marker.

"Go," he said when he was as settled as he was likely to get, "before they see us."

As soon as Hachi was safely out of the way, Miroku summoned a barrier that would hopefully keep the youkai from spotting him. With the medicine still in effect, he had to dig deep to find the spiritual power necessary to create the barrier, but If he could just keep out of sight and conserve his energy until the medicine wore off, he might have some chance of making it out of this mess alive.

He closed his eyes, the better to concentrate, and repeated, "Get out of here, Hachi. Go find someplace safe to hide for a while."

He did not open his eyes to see if Hachi obeyed. Maintaining the barrier required his full concentration, at least at first. As time went by, the medicine must have begun to weaken, or he must have begun to lose his patience, because maintaining the barrier became easy enough that he could risk opening his eyes again.

Night had fallen over the temple, and still the youkai swarmed around in their search for him. He could hear them talking amongst themselves, trying to figure out where he might have gone. He even thought he saw a couple of praying mantises among their number, no doubt relatives of the one he had slain so recently. Had it been a trap all along? He was beginning to think that it must have been, and that he should have realized it long ago.

If he had, he might not be here now, waiting for his inevitable demise within his father's grave.