Adult-FanFiction.org : Inuyasha / Yashahime

The Pain In My Heart	By : christabel Category: InuYasha > General > DarkFic Views: 5715 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own InuYasha, nor make money from this story.

Chapter List
- 19
- 20
Warnings: disfiguration, mpreg, angst, dark, brief semi-graphic mentions of the aftermath of a rape

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Inuyasha depicted herein who belong to Rumiko Takahashi and the publishers of the series and the company who made the anime, I only borrow them in this work of fiction which I do for no monetary profit.

Summary: Inuyasha is unlucky enough to accidentally cross paths with Naraku while alone, Naraku beats him near to death and rapes him. Will Miroku be able to pick up the pieces of Inuyasha's shattered heart and make him whole? And once the unexpected consequences of Inuyasha's rape come to light, will his and Miroku's love be able to bring them together again and pull Inuyasha away from a sinister fate?

They weren't dead.
It was a small miracle in on itself, one which they could scarcely believe to be true. All of them still alive, while not completely unscathed. Miroku looked at their motley group and closed his eyes to offer Buddha his thanks. After a moment of silence he opened them again and looked at the other's. The battle had been hard and they'd spent some time after just huddling together, amazed that they had survived. Wounds had been tended, dark thoughts had circled in all of their mind. Now, they were all gathered around a camp-fire on a clearing. A stream bubbled nearby a. After making the fire they'd just dropped down and stayed down. Tired and worn. Alive.
Miroku's eyes met Sango's and the woman looked at him tiredly. She had a haunted look in her eyes. The monk could hardly blame her, they had battled against her brother again. Fighting Kohaku always took it's toll on the taijiya, this time she'd dropped her guard too much and paid the price. His eyes wandered down from her bruised face to her bandaged arm, she wouldn't use it in battle, or anywhere else, for quite some time. They'd all heard it snap. Miroku had tried to set it right while Kouga held her down but he wasn't sure that he had managed. She needed a healer, if he'd not managed to align the bone, it would need to be reset and it was always better done before the bone healed wrong in the first place. While she'd tried to hide the extent of her injuries, Miroku knew that she had some cracked ribs too. He had not pushed her over them, but knew that he would need to confront her and have them bandaged. But that could wait. For a moment.
The monk sighed. His head strayed downwards to look at his cursed hand, he closed and then opened the palm. It was aching. Still. However, he was yet among the living. But wasn't his curse which worried him the most now. It was Inuyasha. Narakyu had got to him with taunting him about Inuyasha's absence. As a result, Miroku had overdone it a bit, sucking in such a number of lesser youkai like he had hadn't been wise. Not wise at all. He'd done it to numb the pain in his soul. His heart screamed for him to go to Inuyasha and to do that, he had to live. Miroku knew it would have been a coward's way out to just die in battle. Even then he'd tried, in some way wanting for it to happen. He'd been so reckless. He was lucky to have survived. Buddha be praised, maybe he wasn't such a lost cause after all. He hoped this was his second chance.
Going against Naraku had been, in all, a very bad idea. A fool's errand. Even when it had been driven by the idea of saving Inuyasha through the dark hanyou's demise. They had been so foolish, to take Naraku on like that. The monk himself had fought him head on. His heart grew cold even now. His body was shivering even by the heat of the fire, as he heard Naraku's taunting voice slithering in his mind again when he remembered. The trees surrounding them faded into nothing, the flames ceased to be and his comrades worn breaths faded into silence. He would have given anything not to remember.
“Lost the hanyou, have you? He was so delicious as I took him. He wanted it...” Naraku had cornered him, confronted him man on man. Or, rather, man to monster. His voice had been slithering as always, mocking.
Miroku had fought hard not to divulge that Inuyasha was still alive. To throw his survival at Naraku's face, taunt him over his... failure. But he'd not be the one to give that away. Never. He'd keep it a secret even if it would mean his life was forfeit. He'd struck out rather recklessly, whirling his staff, the attack doing little in way of hindering Naraku. The hanyou had laughed at his face. Blood had pounded in the monk's ears.
“Temper, temper. Riles you up that I had him firsts? Used him up... Kukuku... He went screaming, all that pale flesh crimson...'”The bastard hanyou licked his lips, blood-red eyes flashing maliciously.
“No!”
He'd thrown several ofuda, useless, and flung his stuff anew, equally futile. Sango had taken the opportunity to throw her hiraikotsu, which the bastard had dodged. She'd had to avert a half- hearted attack by Kohaku, suffering for that as Naraku had struck her arm while her attention was so diverted. She'd screamed, the flesh of her arm sizzling in the wake of the hanyou's poison. Her arm had hung in an unnatural angle after that. But she'd gritted her teeth and battled on, clinging to life. Kagura had battled Kouga some distance away from them. It seemed Naraku had wanted the two of them, Miroku and Sango, all to himself. Sango being battled by her beloved brother, while Naraku observed, Miroku fighting the bastard himself. Naraku was taunting them, tormenting their minds.
“He was so tight, so very pretty all bloodied up. Pleading as I took him, tore him open, made him mine! He wanted to die, in the end, did you know? Begged me to end it. I know he died with your memory in his head. And he died suffering, cursing you name...”
Miroku had battled on, weeping. He'd sucked in saimyosho, youkai, half the trees around them. He'd not cared that Naraku was coaxing him into madness. He didn't even know when it had ended. He was aware that Sango had touched his arm and he'd nearly killed her, only closing his Kazaana at the last moment. Then his knees had buckled and he'd thrown up. Retched and gagged until nothing more came up. Sango had slumped by him, weeping. Miroku had shivered. They had survived but had been defeated. Yet again they'd fallen prey to Naraku's mind-games.
Miroku fall had been the deepest. He'd seen and heard Inuyasha's terror, knew of the damage done to his mind. He couldn't have had helped seeing him, exposed and torn up, after they'd found Inuyasha. It had been a life time ago and yet it was scarcely six moon's past. Miroku had held his beloved hanyou close as nightmare's had plagued him, had comforted him and loved him, fed him and kept his hair away when no nourishment would stay down. Had sat by him that terrible week when the fever had burned him up...
“Does he know?'” he'd asked, voice unsteady. He'd stared at the blades of grass in front of him, drenched in his own sick. He'd closed his eyes from the sight, Inuyasha's torn and beaten body swimming to his mind's eye the moment he did. He retched but nothing more had come up again, he'd been done being sick.
Kouga had been the one to answer. “Can't say. Couldn't get anything from that wind-bitch. She slipped me again!'”The wolf had finished with a growl, flexing his claws.
Miroku had been able to commiserate on Kouga's lust for vengeance. To have comrades be killed by Kagura, Naraku's minion. It wasn't quite his revenging his father but close, his father but most importantly now: Inuaysha. Miroku wanted Naraku to choke on his words and suffer as he'd made Inuaysha suffer. The monk had of late, when the constant day-to-day presence of his hanyou wasn't on the forefront of his mind, found himself fantasizing about torture. Surely, he had always wanted Naraku dead, but torture? Another matter entirely. He had wondered if he could even do it.
“I'm sorry, she got away.'”Miroku had said wearily to Kouga. He had been so tired. He had been aching to be by Inuyasha's side, right that moment.
Miroku shook his head. What he wouldn't indeed give to be by his beloved hanyou's side, right now.
But he was afraid, afraid of how he'd be received. Afraid of his own actions, would he say the wrong thing again? Do the wrong thing? This encounter with Naraku had muddled his head even more in regards to Inuyasha's condition. He wanted to be by his side so much it hurt but was unsure if her could regard the child his beloved carried with a neutral eye. Seeing Naraku again had made him remember. And Naraku had given him another thing to remember, words said to wound, to break his mind. He knew they were lies but...
I know he died with your memory in his head. And he died suffering, cursing you name...
Miroku had prayed Buddha daily to forget what he'd seen that fateful day, but still the image had remained. Burned to his soul. Inuyasha, on the ground, broken. Miroku had closed his eyes then, the pain of remembering worse than the ache of his hand. Torn clothes, flesh scarred by miasma, blood... so much blood. The stickiness of white and crimson clinging to bruised thighs. Inuyasha's body battered and exposed, the living nightmare of the attack written clearly on the hanyou's flesh. Scarred into his mind for days, weeks, years to come. If he survived.
That was what Miroku had abandoned. A broken hanyou who'd confessed to have loved him for so long, his pride and sense of self taken away by Naraku. Miroku had been there for him but when the final evil of the bastards attack on the man he loved had been revealed, he'd failed him. Utterly and irrevocably. There was no excuse for his actions. He should have been there for Inuyasha, no matter what. He should have been there. He should have been compassionate, understanding, supportive. He hadn't been any of those things. And so, in the dead of night, Inuyasha had left him. 'Do no follow.' Such a message to leave him with. He hadn't deserved even that.
Miroku felt sick.
”We'll get him.”
The monk smiled at the yourouzoku chief's attempt to brighten up his mood. A promise of bloodshed, that was so Kouga's style. All buff and bravado, fight and gore. Yet Miroku couldn't deny that the image of Naraku's head severed from his corpse made him smile. Maybe it would take away the slithering words echoing in his head, the images of the man he loved, broken.
Even then, another smile on another face was something he'd be definitely more glad to see than the gruesome death of Naraku. He hadn't seen Inuyasha smile in months. Not since before the attack.
”I surely hope so...” Miroku said , once again gloomy, his hand throbbing. He let his breath out in a long whoosh of air. He didn't have long, he was slipping away every day. Months, maybe even less. If Inuyasha would carry his offspring as long as human women, Miroku doubted that he'd see it being born. It had been rather pointless to battle Naraku with all that he had. It had just nudged him closer to the brink. The oblivion of the Kazaana was ever closer now, slithering in his mind, slipping past his consciousness with dark tendrils of terror.
”Wouldn't it be better to simply die and be done with it?” the monk muttered sullenly. He leaned his head back against the tree he was lounging against, opening his eyes to look up at the clouded skies of late afternoon. ”I'm such a prejudiced wretch that the only favour I can do to Inuyasha is to die while killing Naraku...”
Sango slapped him. Miroku looked up and saw her hovering over him, her whole body shaking. She had slipped to his side unnoticed, a feat while she was injured. ”I won't let you take the cowards way out!” she sank to her knees, gasping and holding her side with her uninjured hand. ”How you've lived this far, being such an idiot, I don't know but it ends now!” Sango grimaced briefly, breathing slowly. Cracked ribs. A bead of blood glistened on her lip where she'd bitten down into the soft flesh. Her injury worried Miroku greatly. Yet her words prompted a retort in him which flung him back into his gloomy thoughts.
”He doesn't deserve to have my presence as a burden, I'm better away, trying to save his life!” He forced the words out, even when his most ardent wish was that he could be able to embrace his lover one final time... and beg for forgiveness. But he was afraid.
”And you'd rather he have a life without you?” she countered tiredly. ”You love him, then be with him! It's what you're supposed to do!”
”But he doesn't need me there, reminding...” Miroku cut himself short, he was at a bit of a loss as to what to say. The high after the battle was wearing out and he simply felt tired. He swallowed, ”He doesn't need another worry...”
”He might die and you'll not be with him because you're trying to save his life at the cost of your own?” Miroku didn't need to look at Sango to know her face was undoubtedly a mask of incredulity. Her tone was very telling, angry, tired and full of disbelief. Her voice was worn around the edges, her breathing pained.
”Yes!”
”You're an idiot, houshi,” Kouga dropped in on the squabble.
Miroku whipped his head around to look at the youkai. ”Who asked you?” He was so tired. Too worn already to even kill Naraku? Maybe. ”The idiot declaring his love at a first meeting? Would you die for her, would you?!” He didn't care any more if he was screaming a bit. Anything to drive sanity a bit away and let him immerse himself in his valiant but doomed fantasy of saving Inuyasha's life by dying so he wouldn't have to confront him ever again. He was failing miserably at the fantasy already but maybe a bit of yelling would help convince the sane part of his mind? And take away the graveness of the moment, the way Sango wounded when she breathed too deep.
”YES!” the yourouzoku prince cried. He flexed his claws, looking at the monk. ”She loves me, I love her. Simple. Anyone tries to kill her, they'll have to go through me. I'll protect her with my life.” The youkai's speech was punctuated with wild gestures by his hands and a deadly manic glint in his pale blue eyes. Miroku was once again happy they weren't enemies. “I'd die for her.”
Miroku closed his eyes. That was what he'd tried to do, and failed. But his wish to die had been selfish at best. To die in a vain attempt to save Inuyasha so he wouldn't need to live and face him. His hand throbbed.
“I'm such a fool !” the monk murmured after a long silence. Every time he closed his eyes, there he was: Inuyasha. The man whom the monk loved deeply and hopelessly. If he never saw him again, he might as well be dead now. And not care. Miroku knew that he'd let the darkness overwhelm him if he could take Naraku with him, be sure the bastard was dead. But to never see Inuyasha again, say he was sorry for the way he'd acted toward him? He'd go to his death with his heart bleeding, Miroku was sure of it. “Idiot...”
“Yes, you are, houshi-sama...” her voice lacked the mocking righteousness of before. Sango seemed just... tired. She'd slumped against the tree he was leaning against, holding her side and breathing slowly. But she didn't cough, she just seemed sore and battered.
“But he said not to...” Miroku said with a subdued voice. That was one fact which he couldn't overcome no matter which way he reasoned. Inuyasha had told him to stay away. Still, he was hesitant, unwilling to decide and go back. Would it mean that he'd failed? And if Inuyasha forgave him, what then? Could he bear to leave him to go and fight Naraku again, for the sake of their future together? Or would he simply stay and doom them both? What a fate that would be, die one after the other. Just because one of them was a coward.
“He didn't mean it, you fool!” Sango said, some spark in her voice again. She gasped and breathed shallowly, cursing softly under her breath. It was clear she was in pain. And too wilful to own up to it. Had to keep up the façade of a fierce warrior at all times.
“Don't you think I don't know that?!” Miroku whipped his head around and looked at her, he flinched at her paleness. “But if I go back... I won't be able to leave if he...” The monk scrunched his eyes shut. The mere hope of Inuyasha welcoming him, forgiving, loving, it was almost more than he could stand. To dare hope such a thing, it was as much a foolish thing than the hope of killing Naraku before he died himself. A fool's hope. Always had been.
'Dirty... I'm dirty, don't touch me!'
'Why? I love you!'
'Love... love... love...'
'Miroku...'
'It should have died...'
'He was mine, I took him, his sight, dignity, spirit. He begged for the end. He died cursing your name...'
'I can't see you, ever see you...'
Miroku opened his eyes, closing them had been a bad, bad idea. The past was loud in his head, accompanied by vivid images of blood and … The monk shook his head. What had been and could be was mixing in his head. Their recent battle with Naraku had added an image of a broken Inuyasha killed by Naraku into the mix. And Miroku knew it was his fear of a possible future since Naraku was killing a pregnant Inuyasha in the image flashing in his mind. And Inuyasha was terrified. Miroku tried to drag memories of his intimate time with Inuyasha into his mind to drown the heart-stopping nightmare image. He looked at Sango, hoping she could allay his fears, even for a moment. He was also looking at her, really looked at her, assessing her injuries. She didn't sound all right, as much as she'd protested. And he knew he needed to say something, wondered why Kouga already hadn't.
“You're playing into Naraku's hands by staying away...” Sango said. “He needs you. He's broken and you were making him right again.”
“But what can I do, really?” Miroku asked her. “I fear we're being watched, and if I... I won't lead that bastard to him.” Hope and dread warred in his mind. He could now admit that he'd give anything to see Inuyasha again but he'd not put him in danger. He was sure Naraku would follow them if they went where Inuyasha was. To Sesshoumaru's castle. It had been sheer luck that they had had so few encounters with Naraku during Inuyasha's painful convalescence in Kaede's village. Through some things Naraku had said when they'd last battled, and by his long, but not unwelcome, absence from their lives, the dark hanyhou was planning something big.
“Yet we require assistance. Surely his brother...”
“You think I'd ask him for help?” the monk snapped at her. “HIM?! Why, if it weren't for him Inu---” He stopped himself short just in time. Idiot, idiot, idiot. Keep your mouth shut, monk. Don't know if he's still spying. 'And he died suffering, cursing you name...' He'd not be the man to make those words of Naraku a reality.
“He would have died.” Sango said while the wolf stayed silent, for once. “Would you have wanted that, houshi?” Her voice was cold as ice. She clearly hadn't forgiven the monk for his stance on the child Inuyasha carried. The effect was marred slightly by the catch in her breath as she spoke, it made Miroku feel more worried than cowed by the harshness of her words.
“I don't know!” The monk threw his arms open. “But maybe then he would have been without that...” Miroku cut himself short. “And when will you acknowledge that you are in pain? How many cracked ribs do you have?”
“Thing, you were going to say, weren't you? And as for my ribs, what about yours?” Miroku winced at her tone and avoided her eyes. She was glaring daggers at him. “It's a-- an innocent you idiot, his innocent!” she replaced 'child' hurriedly, maybe thinking they were being listened. Her head turned sharply to look into the woods.
And she was on him then, hitting him while she cried. Then she was sagging against him, gasping as her injured hand was trapped between them, her injured chest paining her too. Blood trickled from the edge of her mouth, her bitten lip bleeding again.
“Sango, Sango... Be reasonable, don't make it worse for yourself...” Miroku tried to pry the injured woman off of him. With little success. She was wild, erratically emotional as always after meeting Kohaku. Her brother always brought the annihilation of her village, the death of their father and her own brush with mortality into her mind, clear as yesterday. How often had she snuck away in the aftermath, to go and have a cry at some far-off spot? Her blows ebbed before Kouga finally came to the monk's aide and then she just cried. Miroku simply hugged her clumsily, letting her be and waving the wolf away with his hand. The youkai backed off.
“I'm sorry...” Miroku apologized. He was sickened over what he'd almost said, what had driven her over the edge. Sango usually held it back until later, he'd have expected her to have snuck off later in the evening after they'd eaten.
Miroku remembered the last time he'd held Inuyasha like this. During the fever after Inuyasha had almost miscarried. It had been an endless few weeks. The hanyou had cried and he'd held him, mindful to keep his hands away from his lover's growing mid-riff. How his lover could still cry without eyes was always a mystery to the monk but he had. Inuyasha had been feverish, weak, flirting with death every day. Miroku had known his lover hadn't been holding onto life for him alone, but for the child he carried. Narakui's child. Oh but if it had been anyone else's besides Naraku's! Had they even been lover's after that last afternoon by the brook? A final day of peace, sunshine and laughing water. That embrace had been completely different than the last. They'd kissed for the last time that afternoon, now moons past.
Before everything had fallen apart.
Why hadn't he loved Inuyasha enough to be there for him no matter what? Why did he love him so much now that he feared to go back because he might never leave again? For he did love the hanyou, his broken, beautiful warrior. Always let down by those who loved him.
He cried with her.
* * *
Later, they were preparing to have a rest with subdued spirits. Their meal had been a silent affair, all of them subdued and worn by the battle between them and Naraku, and Miroku and Sango also over their heated row. It had been a simple meal, made from what little provisions they had. After, Sango had grudgingly agreed to let them bandage her broken ribs, and Kouga had bandages the two which Miroku had broken. The taijiya had said that she was otherwise as fine as she could be and that she would see a healer as soon as they could find one. She had just said that she was tired and had curled down to rest in the sleeping bag which Kagome had left her, Kirara cuddled against her side. Kouga had found a nice tree to nap against, albeit Miroku was sure he'd not really sleep, not after they'd battled with Naraku so recently.
Miroku offered to take the first watch after they'd eaten and were setting themselves to sleep. He'd known that sleep would elude him in any case. The other's had agreed, Kouga saying he'd relieve him in a few hours.
While the others slept, the monk gave way to his troubled thoughts. As he looked at the moon, noticing it was new, his cursed hand throbbed. Once but enough. He wondered how Inuyasha fared during his human night. He'd survived them before even with the slow healing of his body after the attack. His hanyou body, even while human, was so resilient.
What did Inuyasha look like now? The monk thought about that as his eyes fell from the moon to look at the flickering flames of their camp fire. It was something he'd not thought of, wanting to shut out everything which concerned the pregnancy from his mind. Baggy clothes had hid Inuyasha's condition to a degree, the last Miroku had seen of him. But that had been almost two moons ago. Tracking Naraku had taken enough time even with their clues. Inuyasha would surely be full of life now, his lithe figure rounded by the child growing inside his body. Miroku recalled the way he'd looked those few times he'd seen the hanyou's torso. The emaciated form had made the bump of Inuyasha's child-heavy belly look bigger than it surely was. He'd looked at it with fascination mixed with abhorrence, thinking how would he have felt if the child had been his. Miroku knew he would have been over-joyed yet sad over passing on his curse to an innocent. He'd not thought of children since he'd acknowledged his affection for his friend. To be the last of his line carrying the Kazaana had been an almost comforting thought. He'd not have to bear the guilt of passing on the curse, the knowing of having doomed one's child.
Now another's child was dooming his lover. The irony didn't escape him. He knew enough to know that his lover's health was not good to survive the pregnancy. Inuyasha had nearly died twice already, even after recovering, his health had been so frail. It was a wonder that Naraku's poison hadn't killed him already. He felt cold at the thought.
The monk stared into the flames. They flickered and danced in the dark night air. He couldn't completely shut away his feelings towards Inuyasha. Yet his emotions were different at any given moment. He wasn't, hadn't ever, been completely not in love with the hanyou since that realization now so long ago. The realization that he loved his friend, his brash comrade in arms. Yet he was losing faith. In this long night, in this dark cold hour, he despaired. He felt that he'd never live to be with Inuyasha again. That he'd never kiss him, hold him, talk too him. And, surely, he'd never get to embrace him in passion. Touch him and make him forget everything, if even for a moment, a bit of perfect bliss. Naraku was too strong an enemy, they were too weak to defeat him. The dark hanyou had already killed his love in a slow death.
Miroku buried his face in his hands and gave in to despair, weeping. It was all meaningless! He would never have a life with Inuyasha, he'd die from his curse, Naraku would live and they would all die. He let his mind drag him back into one of the darkest days of his life...
His steps were hurried, Inuyasha had been gone far too long. The girls were hurrying behind him, Kagome was on the verge of tears. He could hear his own raspy breath and there was no calming his racing heart. The woods were unnaturally silent around them. Eerie. It was as if the world was holding it's breath on the brink of something horrid. Something awful.
The fallen trees made his heart grow cold. There was evidence of Naraku's poison all around. He felt sick. But where was Inuyasha? For surely there was evidence of his attacks there, where those trees had been torn just they way they were when Inuyasha unleashed his blades of blood... He kept his staff at the ready, hurrying onwards alert but terrified for his friend... for the man he held dear.
'Please, you can't be dead. I didn't say I love you yet.'
He found Inuyasha. Blood and semen. Bones breaking through skin. Mottles bruises. Blood. Too much blood. On skin, lips, thighs, silver hair. The ground. The world jerked and came to a stop, an infinity too quickly over when the girls reached him.
'Don't let them see him. Not like this. Is he...? Don't be dead...'
On his knees, blood soaking into his robes, he touched. A heart beat, a rattling breath.
“Inuyasha, oh Inuyasha...”
“Don't look, Kagome, Shippou. Don't look...”
“I'll...” He stripped the outer layer of his kesa, wrapping Inuyasha. 'His eyes...' The hanyou's broken bloody felt light as he lifted him, too ghastly to behold...
He was lucky to not be the death of them all. He'd fallen asleep and was shaken awake by Kouga, hours later. The nigh dying embers of the fire mocked him. The nightmare was shifted away into the back of his mind. And yet it was not a nightmare, not really. A memory turned nightmare. All too real. He'd dreamt of his mad dash into Kaede's with Inuyasha's life's blood seeping into his robes, the hanyou's rattling breath the most loud thing he'd ever heard and the most horrid. The sight of Inuyasha's body, spread in such an obscene way had been branded into his memory. Memories has given way to darkness, eventually. Of dreams of his own death. The Kazaana consuming him, him welcoming it. Willingly succumbing to nothingness.
“Taking a nap, monk?” the wolf's fangs glinted in the almost-darkness.
“Did I fall asleep?” Miroku asked drowsily as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He chastised himself. What a fool! A complete idiot! Even with indignation at himself for endangering them the weight and horror were proving to be hard to shake off. He wished that he could have slept without dreams, to properly rest. Something like that had been a bit too much to ask after their fight with Naraku, it seemed. And he should not have been even sleeping in the first place!
“Not much of a watch, are you?” Kouga echoed his thoughts with his own words.
“No...” the monk shook his head and sighed deeply. He really needed to get a grip on himself. This was no way for him to act. Not now.
“Move over, then, and go to sleep.” Kouga said gruffly. “I'll take her watch too,” he craned his head towards Sango. “She's beat up as is. And you humans need a load of sleep to recover.
“And she will, she's got a fighter's spirit.” Miroku mused tiredly. “Albeit I must say she's never really been herself after we ran into her brother. I'm worried.”
“You're all so fucked up, aren't ya?” The wolf said quasi-philosophical.
“That we are.” The monk rested his head on his hands and sighed. His shoulders slumped in defeat. His life had always been uncertain, to be snatched away by the curse which ailed him. He'd lived with the knowledge all his life, since boyhood. He'd not dared hope to find love, had not thought himself brave enough to love. Love and know he'd not get to be with the one he loved for the rest of his life. A rest of a normal life. The world they lived in was violent, yes, but other people at least had the hope of surviving, of fooling the chances in battle, famine and the rest, and growing old. He'd always known he wouldn't have that. The Kazaana had throbbed in his hand for most of his life, ticking away the hours of his life. It was a help in surviving demons but it was a curse where reaching old age was taken into account, there was no way around it. In Inuyasha he'd found someone whom he'd have wanted to grow old with. And now... They could both be robbed of the possibility of life together. Why hadn't he been strong enough?
Miroku looked at Kouga but the wolf merely stared at the flickering flames. The monk sighed and walked away from the other man over to his bed-roll. Maybe he could try and sleep a little, chances were he'd not have nightmares. If he was lucky. His eyes fell on Sango's resting form and, deciding he might check on her, he went and knelt by her side. He was instantly alarmed, Sango was no deep sleeper, even wounded. The monk carefully lay a hand to her cheek, his other hand ready to dispel her attack should she wake. As his palm felt the skin of her face he felt as if he'd been drenched in ice-cold water. Sango's cheek was burning with fever.
“Kouga...” Miroku kept his tone low, even while he was sure she'd not wake so easy. “Come here.”
The yokai left his place by the fire and trotted to the monk and the taijiya on the other side. Miroku took hold of his hand and put it to Sango's cheek.
“Feel that? She's burning up.”
Kouga turned his eyes to Miroku. “I think you said she was all right, that she used all kinds of salves and stuff?” The youkai sat on his haunches. “She did whiff a bit off, but I thought she was just fighting it off. I've not real skill in telling how sick any given human is.”
“She did... But Naraku's poison is almost always so unpredictable. Move over a bit, I need light,” Miroku ordered the other man about, he had to see Sango's face better. But even the dim light of the flames couldn't reveal to him that what he hoped he wouldn't even see.
“Can you see any blood on her lips?”
“No.”

The monk sighed a breath of relief. “Thank Buddha for that small mercy, at least.”

“You think she need a healer before the morning? A miko?” Kouga asked, looking at the wounded woman. It was a wonder, and a tell-tale sign that she was seriously ill that she hadn't woken up yet. They'd been talking by her side for a bit now, normally she'd have clipped them both over the head. The wolf sniffed at her, wrinkling his nose. “Yeah, now that I know what to smell for... she's not well.”
“Give me some light, I'll open the dressing to her arm, it's where the poison is. Naraku didn't hit her anywhere else. That hit on her side was by Kohaku.” Miroku frowned as he reached over and took hold of Sango's arm. The young woman merely murmured in her sleep, a pained moan slipping past her chapped and worn lips. Her eyebrows knitted together and she moved her head but did not wake up. As the monk peeled open the bandages, he heard the youkai extract a make-shift torch from the fire and hold it close. The light was enough.
He wished it hadn't told them as much as it did, however.
The long gash in Sango's arm was puffy around the edges, pulsing with the same kind of aura that Inuyasha's wounds had had. The skin around it was turning an alarmingly dark shade.
“Buddha have mercy...” Miroku whispered as he saw her arm. Trust Sango to not wince, she was too hard-headed for her own good. But it also seemed Naraku's poison was mutating, changing. The poison in Inuyasha's blood seemed to be slow-moving and impossible to be rid of. Sapping it's victim of their strength slowly, it was a good weapon to weaken morale. However, Inuyasha was hanyou, while Sango was a human. “It's like --- “
“Yeah. Bad.” Kouga summed up laconically. “She needs a miko. Her flesh... it's corrupting. She'll die if we leave her like this.”
“Indeed.” Miroku verified. His eyes were straying to Sango's bag for more of her salves that had been given to her by Kaede. Would the old miko be enough? Would any salve that Sango had in her bag help now. How quickly would Sango's condition deteriorate? They were two weeks away from Kaede's village by foot. She wouldn't make it. “She won't survive to Kaede's, I fear. Not even on Kirara.” As he spoke, he quickly cleaned the wound, covering it with a thick green salve, one which was Kaede's best anti-venom. He hoped it would buy them some time. But where could they go?
And then he realized exactly where they were. The closest place his mind could come up with was Sesshoumaru's castle. And his heart grew cold at the thought. Because he was not welcome there. But Miroku also knew that they had not time to lose. There were no villages nor temples nearby. So he would brave Sesshoumaru's ire and Inuyasha's abhorrence, to save Sango. He was not so cowardly as to let her die because he himself was too afraid of someone who could offer her shelter and help. And Miroku knew that Sesshoumaru had to have healers in that big castle of his. Inuyasha had sometime mentioned the place in passing, having been there a few times in his youth.
“Come on!” Kouga said, looking from Sango to Miroku impatiently. “Have you come up with anything? Kagome will skin me alive if I let Sango die!”
Miroku cringed. Kagome. She would be there. And She'd chew off his ear for him having behaved the way he had towards Inuyasha. The monk frowned. It would be going from bad to worse. “Sesshoumaru-sama's is closest.” He closed his eyes, sending an urgent plea to whomever might listen. “We have to go there.”
“Can we?” Kouga asked nervously. He knew the implications.
Miroku turned to look at him, and then looked back at Sango's pale face, and then at the wounds. “We must or Sango dies.”
“Let's get going then!”
They loaded Sango carefully on Kirara's back, Miroku settling on with her, to keep her from slipping. Kouga prepared to run to where they were heading. He was exited because their destination meant that he'd be seeing Kagome again. Miroku was full of dread, yet there was a spark of hope in his heart. Because at their destination, lay possible salvation, a chance of saying sorry. A chance for love. A chance to save a life. Possible doom.
But it was the only thing that they could do.
- 19
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The Pain In My Heart