InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Transformations ❯ Escape ( Chapter 37 )

She fought back as hard as she knew, and then she knew what he was doing. She felt his tongue on her chin, licking up the blood that rebelled her body. And then he threw her to the side, uncaring. She hit the ground and rolled, and used the momentum to prop herself on one knee and point her arrow at Naraku.

He stilled, his hand on his chin to wipe off the excess blood. His eyes, still narrowed, regarded her arrow. He must still remember Kagome's arrow, and by now he would've deducted that in her hanyou form her arrows were that much more dangerous.

Neither of them moved.

Thirty Seven

Slowly, fearing what he would find, Miroku opened his eyes. He lay on his side now, and wanted nothing more than to fall into unconsciousness again. His entire body ached, and his ears were still ringing from Naraku's torture. He strained, trying to see if he could move at all. His muscles were tight and hard, refusing to move until they were healed. On his left hands, his fingers shakily curved into a fist and out again. He could hear labored breathing, but he couldn't be sure who it was coming from.

Sango. . .

Trying to ignore the pain, he forced himself onto his elbows, and lifted his head to see Sango. In all the hours of torture he'd been through, she hadn't once moved. It was nearly blackened now; the fire outside the door had been put out. But his eyes had a long time to adjust to the dark.

As he reached for her, he realized his bonds were broken. The ties around his wrists were gone now; Naraku had torn them to let him fall onto the cold stone. But where he lay, the stone was now warm. He'd been out for quite some time.

As gently as possible, he touched her shoulder. A sound halfway between a squeak and whimper came from her lips, and he drew back his hand, trying to push himself into a sitting position. He had to get her out of here. . .he had to find their clothes; they needed as much protection as possible. . .And where was Kirara?

His eyes scanned the floor, but he couldn't see anything beyond a few feet. He'd have to feel around for her, then - but he wasn't so sure he could move that much. Groaning in pain and effort, he moved closer to Sango, and reached for her bonds. But hers weren't the same as his - hers were iron manacles. A robe held the manacles to the ceiling, true enough, but it looked as though there was no way to untie it. Taking a closer look, he as right. The iron was melted and solidified around the robe.

Damn! he thought, looking around again for something to cut the rope with. He crawled weakly towards where Naraku left his torture supplies and his hand met with a piece of glass, and then a dagger. It was sticky; his blood was nearly dried on it.

His stomach churned at the feeling, but he forced it down. He didn't have time for that now. He had to get to Sango and free her, and Kirara. . .

His body protested how much he was moving it, but he made it back to Sango and let her head rest on his shoulder as he began sawing at the robe. It cut through in no time, and Sango yelped as she fell onto him. He dropped the dagger and clutched her to him, trying not to let her slide down while trying even harder not to collapse under the new weight.

"Get up, Sango," he urged her, as his hand felt around her shoulders, hoping nothing was dislocated or broken. His search was in vain; she'd been held up so long that both her shoulders were dislocated, and felt as though her left collar bone had snapped under the pressure.

"Wake up," he tried again, his hands finding her sides and shaking her. "Get up. Get up! Sango, please. . .get up. . ." He was fearing for her life more with every second, but knew she was alive - she'd made sounds not a minute ago! He could just scarcely feel her breathing, but it was there, damn it!

"Sango," he repeated, letting the urgency and fear into his tone. "Sango!" His voice was starting to shake, and he glanced over at the door that led out of here. He couldn't carry her in this shape, but if he couldn't wake her, he was going to have to try. . .

Eyes shut, he concentrated. His lips moved as he prayed, wishing the gods would bestow him with their strength. With Sango little more than dead weight, and himself in such bad shape with Kirara missing, he couldn't make it out alive, and neither could she. . .He had to get up.

Jaw clenched in strain, he got his left foot on the ground. Another try and he was squatting. With a grunt he was standing, arms straining under Sango's limp weight. Trying desperately not to drop her, he pushed himself further, crouching to lift her onto his shoulder.

Sango groaned, but still did not stir. Limping and stumbling, he made it to the door, and leaned on it with increasing force until it opened. It was a heavy door, and Sango's weight worked in his favor to get it open. Once open, he leaned his unused shoulder against it and panted, his legs trembling and complaining about being used. He forced himself on, and his feet met with something soft. Looking down, he nearly crowed. Their clothes lie there, still in the designated pieces.

He tried to lower himself to one knee, but ended up collapsing. Sango, in that instant, was out of his power, and fell to the side and onto her back. She yelled in pain, her face etched to show that same pain. And then, slowly, her eyes opened, blinking several times.

Instead of speaking to her, he separated their clothes. A glimmer caught his eye, and when he looked up, he saw red light coming horizontally from a window, up a flight of stairs. It was dusk, then.

His eyes narrowed in contempt. Stairs. He'd have a hell of a time getting up those, especially if he couldn't get Sango on her feet again.

"What. . ."

At her voice, he looked down, and noticed her eyes searching the area. Her lips trembled.

"It's alright," he said, softly.

Her eyes darted his way, and tears filled her eyes at the sight of him. He knew very well how he looked - he had more infected cuts than anything else, with large bruises taking second. Burnt-on scars adorned his chest, spelling out one of Naraku's questions about Kagome.

"Miroku. . ." she breathed. Another moment of that painful stare, and her eyes narrowed, her face hardening. "He'll pay for this. Help me up," she added, suddenly aware of her arms.

He leaned down and, as carefully as possible, slid an arm under her back, pulling her up. She winced and a tear slid out of her eye, but she grit her teeth. She was whimpering against his shoulder now; her shoulders must hurt more than he'd thought.

"What's on my wrists?"

"Iron shackles," he replied.

"Can you get them off?"

"I don't know," he whispered, hardly aware of the words.

"I can," a new voice said.

His head lifted quickly, drawn to the top of the stairs. Sango twisted around, wincing at her shoulders, to look as well. Kagura stood there, fan in hand. His first thought was that they were going to die, that Kagura was playing games. Half his mind prayed that Sango would die quickly, and the other half prayed that she wasn't here to kill them after all.

Kagura glanced over her shoulder and then took the stairs in one leap, landing just behind Sango. She knelt down, and he could see the concentration in her face as she worked the iron free. Then her hands were sliding up Sango's back, and spread over her shoulders.

In response, Sango cried out in pain, and the Kagura pushed. Two loud pops signaled that the joints were back in place, and though Sango yelled again, his eyes were fixed on Kagura's face. If he wasn't mistaken, Kagura looked almost concerned, and she winced when she pushed Sango's shoulders back into place.

She stood up. "Naraku just left, seeking out Kagome-san. I will watch for his return; you two should get dressed and prepare to leave." Without another word she was up the stairs and out of sight.

Both Sango and Miroku were surprised at this, but ignored it long enough to get their clothes back on. Once that task was over, they stood, leaning on each other for support as they climbed the stairs. Sango was limping badly; her left calf was broken. Not that Miroku faired any better - he could feel that two of his right ribs were at the very least fractured, and hoped they weren't broken.

Kagura was tense but waiting for them at the end of the hall. She inclined her head. "This way." She turned left, but neither of them even tried to follow. After a moment she reappeared, annoyed. "You need to come this way if you want to live," she explained.

"How do we know that -" Miroku paused at the throb in his side and went on - "that you're not taking us straight to Naraku?"

Kagura looked impatient. "What choice do you have?" she asked, completely serious. She didn't wait for their answer as she turned down the corridor again.

Left with no ideas and no plan, Sango and Miroku had to follow her. Like she said, what choice did they have? They followed her down several corridors, limping, and at the end of each one she was waiting for them to catch up. But it was more than that; she was checking to see where the servants were. They had no idea how long they were walking, but by the time Kagura stepped aside and opened a door, they were beyond caring.

"Follow that path until the fork in the road. Go right, not left. The right is more treacherous, but will lead you to a nearby village where you can be treated." She was about to leave, but Sango grasped her arm.

"Why?" she said. "Why are you helping us."

Kagura smirked. "Anything to thwart Naraku."

"But aren't you a part of him?"

Kagura's eyes narrowed and she sneered. "Not by my choice."

"Then why don't you leave?" Miroku asked.

"I have no choice. Naraku holds my heart in the palm of his hand. If he didn't have it, I would have killed him long ago." She shifted her feet and pointed her fan out the door. "Go now, before the servants find you. Go!"

"Kirara," Sango said. "Where is -"

"At the village," Kagura interrupted. "I took her there myself while Naraku was busy with you," she said with an incline of her head towards Miroku.

He was puzzled. Kirara was there while Naraku was. . .busy.

As though she'd read his thoughts, Kagura shook her head. "He continued to beat you after you were unconscious, and the moment you fell he sent Kirara to another room. He doesn't know of my treachery. Leave!" she added, more urgently.

They didn't need any more prodding. Trying hard not to collapse or stop for rest, they went down the barely-there path, holding each other up and feeding off one another's strengths. It was dark now, the moon nearly full. In another night it would be. Hours passed by as they continued on, but they didn't even make it to the fork.

Sango collapsed with a shriek as her bad leg gave out, and Miroku was down a second later. Both panting, in pain and tired, they couldn't support themselves any longer. Sango's entire body was stinging from untreated wounds, and Miroku's ached from all the work he'd put it through. There was no guarantee for either of them that they would ever make it to the village alive.

"We protected Kagome," Sango was panting. "Isn't that worth it?"

"Yes," Miroku replied, smiling at the demon exterminator. "Yes, it was worth it. All of it."

Sango was nodding now, and after a few moments she was on her stomach, unable to keep herself awake any longer.

Unwillingly following her lead, Miroku was down shortly after. Just before his eyes closed he reached for her, stretching his arm across her back and trying not to wince away from his hurt ribs. Then his eyes shut, and he willingly invited the awaiting darkness.

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Yup, you hate me. I can feel it by the way you're glaring at the screen. Cause I'm psychic. Yep, that's right. Psychic. Psy-chic. Pys-cho. Psy-chi-del-ic. Okay, ignore me. . .

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