InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Winds ❯ Wilted ( Chapter 8 )

Sango awoke in shuttered darkness to the low sound of her own groan of pain. Her head felt as though a thousand iron-shod horses had trampled through her dreams, and the sound of the blankets rustling around her was piercing through the pain.

She did not remember coming here, but she recognized the place, and she could hear the slow murmur of voices outside despite the edge of darkness showing between the curtains. Slowly, painfully, quietly, Sango dragged herself up off the futon and wrapped one of the blankets around herself. Her arm and shoulder felt as though they were on fire; her leg moved only half a step, and then she felt taut bandages restraining her motions.

Sango didn't think she wanted to see the wounds. She limped to the edge of the doorway, quieter than quiet around Kaede's sleeping body, close to the embers of the fire. Shippou was beside the old priestess, an exhausted expression on his small face, but Miroku was not there, or Kagome, or Inuyasha. It was not unusual for the hanyou to be up this late, and one never knew if Kagome had returned to her own time, but Miroku?

Standing by the door, she could hear their voices, but the words in them, the tone of them, shocked her.

“What are we going to do now, then?”

That is Inuyasha.

“We wait for Sango to heal, and Miroku to come back, and then we go out and find Naraku. What else?”

And that is Kagome. But…Miroku come back? Where did he go, why would he go without them, without…me?

“This is a dark night, Kagome, and Shippou is sleeping with Kaede.”

Sango flushed, hearing a new familiarity in his voice, a teasing persuasion. She could not hear Kagome's response, it was spoken too low, but Inuyasha answered her with a growl-chested chuckle that told Sango more than enough.

She moved as quickly as she could, moving her hand to the door, but it was not nearly fast enough.

I should have stayed in bed…

She was interrupting a brutal, passionate kiss, or maybe more than a kiss - through the swirls of hair and folds of robes, it was impossible to see, and she did not want to. They parted quickly, but despite the severity of her blush and the stuttering of her tongue, Kagome's cheeks were still not as red as her lips.

“Sango! You shouldn't be up!”

With a heavy, limping step that brought her the rest of the way through the door, Sango waved Kagome's words away.

“Never mind that, Kagome. Where is Miroku, and how long have I been out? Some things have…really changed.”

Her eyes pointedly avoided touching on their disheveled appearance, but Kagome's blush couldn't get any worse. Surprisingly, or perhaps not, it was Inuyasha who came to the rescue.

“You've been in fever dreams for four days, Sango, and unconscious for three before that. It has been seven days since the lightening struck you - if the mid night has passed, than closer to eight.”

The thought of how much time had passed stopped all of Sango's other questions, as it was meant to do. She was suddenly swept with a wave of dizziness that turned all the walls into ceilings and floors. Kagome was up off Inuyasha's lap in a heartbeat, steadying her.

“Do you remember the lightning, Sango? The dragon, and the storm?”

Kagome's questions were soft and cool in Sango's ears, restoring order, but the memories Sango was being asked for did not arrange themselves coherently, or fall within easy reach.

“I remember a bright, red pain - and feeling like I was falling, like the feeling that comes in a dream.”

“That pain was the dragon-lightning. You did fall, when you and Kilala were struck, but Miroku caught you, and since then you have not been conscious.”

Kagome's fingers passed up Sango's arm, searching the bandages out. The other pressed against her forehead.

“You are still feverish, and all this walking around has burst the blisters on your shoulder. Sit quietly now, so I can change the bandage. They were close to breaking anyway - I'll have to check your leg, and see if those need tending, too.”

Kagome gave orders in a fierce whisper, trying not to wake Kaede but to let Sango know she meant business at the same time. She led Sango back to her futon, and eased her down to the floor.

It was only when she sat back down that Sango became aware of the strain she had been putting on herself, just to stand and walk across the room. He muscles went from tight as steel bands to completely limp in a flat second.

“Here, Sango. This should help.”

She turned, and accepted a cup that Inuyasha was holding out to her. She pressed it between her fingers, savoring the cool feeling. She took one small, careful sip, and then a larger one with a surprised look creeping over the discomfort on her features.

“It's…good. Thank you, Inuyasha.”

He shrugged her off, and moved to his customary place by the wall. Once he was seated, he leaned tetsusaiga against his shoulder and gestured towards Kagome, busy amid Kaede's herbs, trailing fresh linen from one hand.

“She made it, this morning. Whenever we come back here, Kaede gives her a little more training, and she gets a little stronger.”

Kagome turned her head in his direction, and recaptured her fierce whisper.

“I heard that, Inuyasha!”

When she turned away, Sango could see that she was smiling and shaking her head; unlike the Inuyasha she remembered, he did not seem perturbed by the possibility of `osuwari!' that had snuck into Kagome's tone.

“So, Inuyasha, are you going to tell me what has been going on?”

Her eyes closed, and she took another sip of cold tea. Kagome approached with an armful of herbs, and settled herself. With quick efficiency she pulled Sango's yukata off her shoulders, and began to unwrap the long strips of linen that bound her arm and shoulder. Without a word, Inuyasha turned away, and while Kagome eased the fluid-soaked bandages away from the raw burns, he tried to answer Sango's question.

“We waited the night, after the dragon was defeated. That was the night that I made Kagome my mate.”

He paused, and the smile that flitted across his face was dark, his teeth like a slice of moonlight, his fangs glittering over his lips. Sango's face was eerily calm, and the sudden light of her eyes struck out at him. Kagome sat back on her heels, looking between them, but Sango darted a glance in her direction, and pressed her fingers for silence.

“If you hurt Kagome - this is my little sister, one close to my heart, you understand? What have you done about Kikyou?”

Kagome's features did not even tighten for a moment; her fingers remained loose under Sango's hand.

“Kikyou has been told. You must understand, Sango, sister or no - Kagome is mine. She broke my seal, saved my soul, healed my heart and wounded my destiny. I belong to Kagome. The day I betray her, I will give you tetsusaiga to cut out my heart.”

He stood and passed through the door without another word. Sango smiled, and looked up from her cup to meet Kagome's eyes. The herbs Kagome had been holding were scattered all over the floor.

“Did you hear all that, Kagome?”

Kagome's answer was almost a whisper.

“Before…he told me he loved me. Not…any of that.”

Tears had flooded her eyes, and she knew that any moment, Inuyasha would rush back in from the scent of them, and wake Kaede, and Shippou, and cause a riot. The moment she wanted would not happen if they were not alone. Sango was almost laughing, and gave permission with her eyes; Kagome stood, and half-ran for the door.

A few moments passed in silence, and then the rustling of bedding and soft footsteps approached Sango. Kaede knelt heavily, and turned to the task of picking up spilled herbs and rewrapping Sango's bandages.

“So, child, tell me what it is you wish to know, and I will do my best to tell you. Kagome and Inuyasha are adjusting to a new life, and Inuyasha does not share well.”

Sango held up her arm, so Kaede could examine the broken blisters, and turned her own head sideways so she could see. Instantly, she wished she hadn't. The pain was less than it looked like it should be - a cool breeze moved over the slushy surface of the wounds, and her nerves tingled with tangible relief - but the raw surface of flesh beneath dead white skin disturbed her eyes.

“Miroku, Kaede. Where is Miroku? Why did he leave?”

Kaede shook her head, and laved a soothing ointment onto Sango's wounds.

“The first question you ask me, I have no answers for. I am sorry, Sango.”

She sighed, and patted Sango's hand while she reached for the new linen.

“In the morning, six days ago, Kagome, Inuyasha, Shippou and Miroku returned, bearing you. By the time another morning had come, Miroku was gone - when exactly he left, and where he was bound for, I could not tell you. He has been silent, and thoughtful, and dark in those thoughts of late. Perhaps you would know why, better than I.”

Sango clenched her fists, quickly, tightly, and the shock of pain down her arm loosened one of them at once. The other ground down into the floor beside her futon.

“Of course I know. He's afraid…that we won't find Naraku in time, that we won't kill him. That he will die in the void of his hand like he has slain so many demons, like his father…like his grandfather. He's afraid to die.”

Kaede sat back on her knees, and began work on unwrapping the bandages around Sango's leg.

“Miroku's fears are not so base, Sango. He only fears his own death for the pain it could cause his companions. Naraku awakens disgust in Miroku, not fear, but his time is running short. Do you remember why Miroku began his journey alone?”

Sango squeezed her eyes shut against the pain as Kaede pulled the long strips of linen away from her leg.

“He said…he said once that he did not wish to endanger a traveling companion, that his death could come at any moment, without warning, and all those near him would be sure to be devoured, just as he would be. I told him that was stupid…because without companions, he was sure to die, and with them, he might live. He said he had never thought much about living, and so I thought that he was afraid to die. Can it be…that he is afraid to live, instead?”

Kaede shook her head, and smoothed a soothing balm over both the unhealed blisters and those that had burst.

“I think that is more wise than being afraid of death, don't you? But more than that, I do not agree that it is fear which rules him. There is something darker, yet less heavy than death, which lingers in his thoughts. Perhaps it is hope.”

Sango did not understand, but she was tired, and missed Miroku, and envied Kagome the new happiness of being `mate' to the one she loved.

 

 

 

 

The morning broke open and ran down the sky like a fresh yolk, yellow and thick, but maneuvering clouds promised that the afternoon would be wet despite the glorious daybreak. Miroku blinked up at the brightening sky from his place beside the evening's fire, and saw that Kouga was already gone, run off between the trees to hunt, or fish, or because the anger of Kagura's nearness was threatening to overflow.

She did not impress herself on them, or even stay near enough that her scent could taunt Kouga's nose, but Miroku's spiritual senses were always aware of her, like a leaf on the breeze, bobbing in and out of view as the winds changed. He knew that Kouga was also aware of her, somehow; when he had returned from stitching her kimono, the wolf snapped firewood in silence and stared into the fire until Miroku slept, and maybe after.

Now that it was morning, several choices paced around Miroku's thoughts, each offering its own path. He could not travel with Kouga, and allow Kagura to continue following them - it would only lead to violence, no matter what promises Kouga made. He could not turn back, and return to the familiar companionship that offered itself so temptingly - that was death.

What was Naraku doing now? The changes that moved around them were quickening in pace; the darting game that they had played for years now was altering its form and rules. Kagome and Inuyasha - Kikyou and Kouga. If Naraku knew, there would be swift retribution, and Kagome would be in worse danger then ever. Who knew what kind of wicked trap he would try to set?

Kagura could still be working his will, vulnerable to his desires because of her own lack of center. If he had been lured away, just to make it easier…but what was the point of that speculation? He had already made one choice; he was going forward, taking this chance, lured by hope.

He had been gone long enough to make everyone worry, long enough that even if they learned his whereabouts, they could never catch him. Inuyasha would no longer leave Kagome behind to move forward more swiftly. Inu hanyou though he was, now he would stop every night, and she would always be with him. Someone had to tell them he was safe, alive…that he would return if he was able. Someone had to tell Kagome that Kikyou had become Kouga's `spirit woman', that Kikyou was changing in ways they did not know and could not expect.

“Miroku, what are you staring at?”

“Uh…huh?”

It was, of course, perfectly simple. And because he had not even admitted the change to himself, Kouga would be perfectly willing to go to Kagome…provided that he did not arrive at night, and could be trusted not to taunt Inuyasha about Kikyou.

“Kouga…you should go to Kagome. You must tell her what has been going on, you must tell her about Kikyou and where I am, so that she does not worry. Talk to her alone, away from Inuyasha, far enough away that you are out of earshot, if you can manage it. Naraku targets the loved ones of those he hates - Kagome is in greater danger now, and so is Kikyou. They share a face, and his twisted desire does not make much difference between them. They are both…Inuyasha's women.”

Kouga's snarl twisted past his control, and he clenched his fist against the implication of Miroku's words.

“Naraku…and Inuyasha. If it weren't for the one, the other would probably be my blood enemy, but there's no time for that. Why this sudden concern, Houshi?”

Miroku did not smile.

“You know as well as I do that Kagura is near us. I need her help, but that cannot be while I travel by her side - not because of her, but because of you. There are messages that need to be brought, but I am not fast enough to return there and bring them, and then escape again. Inuyasha would follow me far enough to track me, and then go back for the others.”

His voice turned urgent, his eyes hard.

“You cannot allow them to follow me, Kouga. Inuyasha is hardheaded, but Sango's burns were vicious and Kagome will not want to leave her behind. Appeal to her - she is the one who commands Inuyasha, and not with words.”

A vague spark of interest had already lit in the wolf's eyes, and he toyed with a log at the edge of the flame, poking it so sparks rose up and fluttered across the blue.

“Sango is the huntress, yes? The other woman who travels with you? How was she burned? Was Kagome hurt?”

Miroku stood and began to tie on his outer robe. Usually he was grateful for the extra layer, but the nights had become sticky and thick.

“Sango is the other woman, yes. We fought a lightning dragon, an enormous demon that brought a typhoon behind it, and before we defeated it Sango was struck down by the demon lightning. She was burned down her left side…they are terrible wounds. I stayed long enough to make sure…I stayed, for a while, before I left, because she was injured.”

Kouga's eyes narrowed as Miroku spoke, and then he stood, brushing the dirt from his furs as he stood.

“I will go to Kagome, Miroku, and I will tell this woman, Sango…I will tell her that you wish her well. Be careful, Houshi. Your new companion will not be as loyal, or as trustworthy, as I.”

With a whirlwind of speed, Kouga shot off, back down the path they had already come, and Miroku poured dirt over the fire to quench it without smoke and packed his few possessions back into his bag. From overhead, a single white feather drifted down, and landed in front of his feet.

She is swift. Well…it's not as though there's time to waste.

He bent and lifted it up, holding it over his head so that the sun turned the soft white down the pale yellow hue of a lotus blossom. Almost at once, the wind lifted and rushed down through the leaves and branches. The dirt he had spilled over the little fire blew away in the rush of wind, and the ashes were sucked up to dance in the air.

She landed in front of him this time, and rose from her feather with the grace to which he was accustomed. The last of her wounds had healed, and her skin was palely smooth again, but the stains had not faded from the kimono he had stitched, and the fluent lines of purple stitches looked like an unfinished embroidery, leaves without a stalk.

“You sent the wolf away. How did you manage that, Houshi?”

He grinned, and she was surprised. One did not give smiles to an enemy, unless they were about to die. This was not that kind of smile.

“I sent him to Kagome. He is a little obsessed, actually, but really it is Kikyou he wants.”

She nodded.

“He does not want in vain; he has had the priestess, the miko who is undead. She seemed to enjoy him nearly as much as Inuyasha enjoyed his miko. Kanna's mirror makes no exclusions for privacy, and Naraku is quite the voyeur.”

She felt pleasure defaming the name of the one who tormented her, but the Houshi's face showed no similar emotions. His original surprise at her nod of agreement had changed to wide concern.

“Naraku knows that Kouga has taken Kikyou? Then it is good that Kouga goes with warning. Inuyasha may not want to hear it, but Kagome will tell him somehow…”

Kagura's eyebrows questioned him even before her voice.

“Why do you worry so much for your friends? Whether she is Inuyasha's mate or not, this miko girl is in equal danger from Naraku, just as you all are. Being his enemy means you are not safe, not as long as he lives, and I do not know if there is anyone who could destroy him. Even Inuyasha's brother…”

She fell silent.
”You have met Sesshomaru?”

Her thoughts flitted back, touching on that embarrassing memory, the coldness in that face, so surreal in its beauty that she shied away from it. He had not wanted the power of the shikon no tama, nor any part in the dramatic sweep of history that Naraku sought to create.

“Yes…I have met him. He is strong, but I think…”

She hesitated.

“He is too proud, and yet grieving. I do not know why. I do not think I could ever touch him.”

Miroku was suddenly swept up in a wave of unreality, peering into himself and asking what, exactly, he thought he was doing. This conversation with Kagura was impossible, happening with words and not blades. But wasn't there something he had wanted to know, a reason to need her?

“Kagura, I have traveled south because that was the direction you gave me. Where is this shrine, and what is the fastest way?”

She turned, and retreated to her feather.

“Travel straight south, Houshi. The mountain sticks out alone at the end of a long range. When you see it, you will know you are nearing a holy place. Now, you are nearing the territory of a tribe of lynx youkai. Be careful, Houshi.”

She began to float quickly up into the air, and Miroku called after her.

“You are sure this is the swiftest way?”

Her voice drifted down to him with a laugh on its edge.

“You will not come up with me, so you must travel along the ground. There is no faster path…”

Come up with you?

It had sounded like an invitation, though of what sort he was not sure. Trusting her directions was one thing, but to fly along in the clouds? She could kill him in a moment, and there would be nothing he could do about it. He tramped down the long path she had flown, feeling the presence of her accompany him far out of reach.

The forest was becoming more and more jungle, and the creeping vines reached out of the ground and scratched at his feet and ankles. For a while he bent and passed under the drooping branches of wide, short trees, and then the path cleared again and rolled down to the south between reaching branches and bright, madly colored flowers.

The press of vegetation slowed the breeze that had cooled him in the more open forest, and the heat was oppressive, pushing down on him like a lead weight out of the sky. The rain that had been promised by the morning's far-off clouds finally arrived, but the drops did not penetrate far underneath the thick canopy, and the sun did not give up easily, beating down through rain and trees to stifle any hope of cooler air.

By nightfall, he no longer cared about trust, and he dreamed of flying through cool air currents and raw, damp clouds, sitting on something softer than shadow. There was a woman in front of him, who turned and smiled with a glint of teeth, but in the darkness of the dream there was no face, and the shining eyes could not be named.