InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The Road Less Traveled ❯ Cursed ( Chapter 7 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: nicluv1787 
His father just wanted him to be a normal boy, he just wanted to save his father.
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Drama / Comedy | Type: Divergence | Uploaded On: 01.18.2010 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.4K | Visits: 359 | Status: Completed
His father just wanted him to be a normal boy, he just wanted to save his father.
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Drama / Comedy | Type: Divergence | Uploaded On: 01.18.2010 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.4K | Visits: 359 | Status: Completed
Title: Cursed
Author: Nicluv1787Rating: K
Prompt: (not) AverageCharacters: Young MirokuWord count: 1,221
Summary: His father just wanted him to be an average boy; he just wanted to save his father.
A/N: Some dialogue is taken from the anime episode 28.
The temple was deathly quiet, Miroku sat on his knees regarding the wizened monk Mushin as he finished the sealing beads that contained his father’s kazana. A rattling hiss escaped the cursed extremity; Miroku watched the pained look on his father’s face at the sound, his purple eyes seemed troubled. While Mushin shook his head whispering something in the younger monk’s ear. Miroku leaned in closer to catch the tail end of what he said.
“…Not much time…”
What could this mean; Miroku opened his mouth to ask when his father cut him short.
“Miroku why don’t you go to bed it’s getting late.” His father said gently.
Miroku regarded the young monk. He’d aged so much in the past year. His once sparkling eyes were now dull and lifeless. His neat black hair that was usually was tied back in a small pony tail lay stringy around his shoulders. He’d never seen his father like this, and somewhere deep down it worried him.
“Yes father.” He replied automatically before rising to his feet and leaving the room.
The two men watched him leave the room; they waited for him to exit before continuing their hushed conversation.
“How much time do you think I have Mushin? You must have some idea being there when my father was swallowed.”
“I was only a boy then, but at the rate of expansion I don’t know if you’ll make it to the end of this week.”
The young Monk sighed, “What about Miroku, what happens when I go?”
“You know I’ll take care of him old friend.” Mushin said resting his hand on his long time friends arm.
“I know that, what about the curse? I should never have had a son. He’ll never be an average boy.” The young monk said with a heavy sigh full of regret.
“Don’t say such a thing, Miroku will carry on your legacy to defeat Naraku.” Mushin said encouragingly
“He won’t inherit a legacy, he inherits a curse. I wanted more than that for my son; I wanted him to have a good life. I thought I could defeat Naraku myself, but it only expedited my death and doomed my only son. How could he ever forgive me?”
Unbeknownst to the two older men Miroku sat just outside the sliding tour, his ear pressed up against the door. He didn’t completely understand what the older men were saying, ‘swallowed’? Naraku was a familiar name, and he knew about the curse, the tunnel of wind in his father’s hand, but what did all of this have to do with him? He wasn’t sure so he kept listening.
Mushin took a swig of his ever present jug of sake. “Hmn” He replied scratching his chin. “I don’t think you need to worry my friend, Miroku will understand when the time is right, wont you boy?”
Miroku sat straight up behind the door, his heart pounding inside his chest. They knew he was listening, he wanted to call out to his father in that moment, tell him he wanted to understand, he wanted to help him however he could, but he couldn’t find the words. Instead, like a frightened child he scuttled away to his room.
The younger man looked at the door where his son had been listening moments before.
“I have even less time than you think; already the tunnel begins to consume me. I want you to help my son; he’s too young to understand what a terrible burden I place on his shoulders. Promise me you’ll raise him well Mushin?”
“I promise.” Mushin said his voice thick with unexpressed emotion.
~.~.~.~
Alone in his room Miroku examined his right hand, he imagined a sucking tunnel of death. He thought about what he could to ease the burden from his father’s shoulders, if he could take the curse from his father then his father could be normal. Miroku didn’t care if he wasn’t an average boy; he only wanted to keep his father around. Because from the way the two men had been speaking it was obvious his father’s life was dwindling fast. Then in his child’s mind he came to a decision, he decided the next day he would tell his father how he felt, he didn’t care to be average and he would take the curse from his father. Pleased with his own decision he drifted off to sleep.
~.~.~.~
Miroku was shook awake hours later by a deafening hiss and a wind so strong it shook the entire temple. He jumped up in bed, was it a storm? He slipped on his sandals and ran into the hall-way; Mushin was half way towards the doors to the temple when he emerged from his bedroom. He made to call out to the monk, when he was struck with fear by the sudden realization, this hiss, and this rumbling bluster it was his father’s wind tunnel. Was the temple under attack? He ran after Mushin.
Outside the wind whipped dangerously, blowing Miroku’s robes about him, he saw his father several yards away the center of an enormous whirlwind. His father gave him a weak smile, before turning his attention back to his own hand and the whirlwind that surrounded him. Miroku looked from his father to the old monk Mushin, who stood at the foot of the temple stairs, his expression unreadable to the young boy. The whirlwind picked up in intensity, uprooting surrounding brush, the ground around his father sinking in. It was then Miroku realized what was happening. He ran towards his father heedless of the apparent danger he had to stop this from happening.
“Father, Father!” He screamed.
“No don’t go towards him Miroku; you’ll be sucked into his wind tunnel as well.” Mushin jumped to action; he couldn’t let Miroku get too close to the sucking wind.
“Father, father!” Miroku was screaming himself horse, as Mushin wrapped his arms around the young boy. “Let me go Mushin,” he struggled to be freed of his grasp to get to his father in time he had to take the curse from him. “Father, father!” He pleaded.
“You will be pulled into your father’s wind tunnel as well if you go.” Mushin said into his ear. Miroku didn’t care he need to take the wind tunnel before it was too late.
“Father no!” It was too late, the whirlwind reached its peak streaks of white and blue light blurred into a dance surround his father as his arm sucked itself up into a hole followed by his body till he was gone.
Tears ran down Miroku’s cheeks, in heavy streams, the sound of wind had halted, leaving him in heartbreaking silence. He was too late his father was dead. Mushin released his grip on the child just as a stabbing sensation shot through his right arm, Miroku fell doubled over in pain; a dull throb followed the stabbing pain traveling the length of his arm. Miroku screamed in pain and loss, as it burst from his right hand.
The pain subsided, and a small hiss escaped from Miroku’s clutched hand. He opened his hand slowly, a hole the size of a pebble rested in the palm of his hand. He’d done it he’d taken the curse but not in time to save his father’s life.
Author: Nicluv1787Rating: K
Prompt: (not) AverageCharacters: Young MirokuWord count: 1,221
Summary: His father just wanted him to be an average boy; he just wanted to save his father.
A/N: Some dialogue is taken from the anime episode 28.
The temple was deathly quiet, Miroku sat on his knees regarding the wizened monk Mushin as he finished the sealing beads that contained his father’s kazana. A rattling hiss escaped the cursed extremity; Miroku watched the pained look on his father’s face at the sound, his purple eyes seemed troubled. While Mushin shook his head whispering something in the younger monk’s ear. Miroku leaned in closer to catch the tail end of what he said.
“…Not much time…”
What could this mean; Miroku opened his mouth to ask when his father cut him short.
“Miroku why don’t you go to bed it’s getting late.” His father said gently.
Miroku regarded the young monk. He’d aged so much in the past year. His once sparkling eyes were now dull and lifeless. His neat black hair that was usually was tied back in a small pony tail lay stringy around his shoulders. He’d never seen his father like this, and somewhere deep down it worried him.
“Yes father.” He replied automatically before rising to his feet and leaving the room.
The two men watched him leave the room; they waited for him to exit before continuing their hushed conversation.
“How much time do you think I have Mushin? You must have some idea being there when my father was swallowed.”
“I was only a boy then, but at the rate of expansion I don’t know if you’ll make it to the end of this week.”
The young Monk sighed, “What about Miroku, what happens when I go?”
“You know I’ll take care of him old friend.” Mushin said resting his hand on his long time friends arm.
“I know that, what about the curse? I should never have had a son. He’ll never be an average boy.” The young monk said with a heavy sigh full of regret.
“Don’t say such a thing, Miroku will carry on your legacy to defeat Naraku.” Mushin said encouragingly
“He won’t inherit a legacy, he inherits a curse. I wanted more than that for my son; I wanted him to have a good life. I thought I could defeat Naraku myself, but it only expedited my death and doomed my only son. How could he ever forgive me?”
Unbeknownst to the two older men Miroku sat just outside the sliding tour, his ear pressed up against the door. He didn’t completely understand what the older men were saying, ‘swallowed’? Naraku was a familiar name, and he knew about the curse, the tunnel of wind in his father’s hand, but what did all of this have to do with him? He wasn’t sure so he kept listening.
Mushin took a swig of his ever present jug of sake. “Hmn” He replied scratching his chin. “I don’t think you need to worry my friend, Miroku will understand when the time is right, wont you boy?”
Miroku sat straight up behind the door, his heart pounding inside his chest. They knew he was listening, he wanted to call out to his father in that moment, tell him he wanted to understand, he wanted to help him however he could, but he couldn’t find the words. Instead, like a frightened child he scuttled away to his room.
The younger man looked at the door where his son had been listening moments before.
“I have even less time than you think; already the tunnel begins to consume me. I want you to help my son; he’s too young to understand what a terrible burden I place on his shoulders. Promise me you’ll raise him well Mushin?”
“I promise.” Mushin said his voice thick with unexpressed emotion.
~.~.~.~
Alone in his room Miroku examined his right hand, he imagined a sucking tunnel of death. He thought about what he could to ease the burden from his father’s shoulders, if he could take the curse from his father then his father could be normal. Miroku didn’t care if he wasn’t an average boy; he only wanted to keep his father around. Because from the way the two men had been speaking it was obvious his father’s life was dwindling fast. Then in his child’s mind he came to a decision, he decided the next day he would tell his father how he felt, he didn’t care to be average and he would take the curse from his father. Pleased with his own decision he drifted off to sleep.
~.~.~.~
Miroku was shook awake hours later by a deafening hiss and a wind so strong it shook the entire temple. He jumped up in bed, was it a storm? He slipped on his sandals and ran into the hall-way; Mushin was half way towards the doors to the temple when he emerged from his bedroom. He made to call out to the monk, when he was struck with fear by the sudden realization, this hiss, and this rumbling bluster it was his father’s wind tunnel. Was the temple under attack? He ran after Mushin.
Outside the wind whipped dangerously, blowing Miroku’s robes about him, he saw his father several yards away the center of an enormous whirlwind. His father gave him a weak smile, before turning his attention back to his own hand and the whirlwind that surrounded him. Miroku looked from his father to the old monk Mushin, who stood at the foot of the temple stairs, his expression unreadable to the young boy. The whirlwind picked up in intensity, uprooting surrounding brush, the ground around his father sinking in. It was then Miroku realized what was happening. He ran towards his father heedless of the apparent danger he had to stop this from happening.
“Father, Father!” He screamed.
“No don’t go towards him Miroku; you’ll be sucked into his wind tunnel as well.” Mushin jumped to action; he couldn’t let Miroku get too close to the sucking wind.
“Father, father!” Miroku was screaming himself horse, as Mushin wrapped his arms around the young boy. “Let me go Mushin,” he struggled to be freed of his grasp to get to his father in time he had to take the curse from him. “Father, father!” He pleaded.
“You will be pulled into your father’s wind tunnel as well if you go.” Mushin said into his ear. Miroku didn’t care he need to take the wind tunnel before it was too late.
“Father no!” It was too late, the whirlwind reached its peak streaks of white and blue light blurred into a dance surround his father as his arm sucked itself up into a hole followed by his body till he was gone.
Tears ran down Miroku’s cheeks, in heavy streams, the sound of wind had halted, leaving him in heartbreaking silence. He was too late his father was dead. Mushin released his grip on the child just as a stabbing sensation shot through his right arm, Miroku fell doubled over in pain; a dull throb followed the stabbing pain traveling the length of his arm. Miroku screamed in pain and loss, as it burst from his right hand.
The pain subsided, and a small hiss escaped from Miroku’s clutched hand. He opened his hand slowly, a hole the size of a pebble rested in the palm of his hand. He’d done it he’d taken the curse but not in time to save his father’s life.