Chapter Text
Miroku made his way toward where one of the villagers had said she’d spotted Inuyasha. The hanyou had been subdued the previous day after their return from fighting Yura. At first, Miroku had assumed that it was simple fatigue that was making his new companion so untalkative after their short nap, but when he refused the meal that one of the villagers offered him and promptly disappeared from her hut, it seemed that there was something more amiss.
Miroku had been repeatedly surprised at Inuyasha’s apparent concern for his survival during the fight, and he’d thought that they had started to learn to trust each other. Miroku didn’t want to push when there was no need, and decided to leave him be for the night. But with no sign of him through the morning and into the afternoon, he had to admit that he was starting to worry. It wasn’t so much that he thought that Inuyasha might be dangerous if left unsupervised – though Miroku wasn't naïve enough to discount the possibility entirely – he was more worried that something might have happened to him.
Inuyasha had been gravely injured, after all. Even with one wound instead of three, Kaede had been bedridden all day the previous day, and had been stiff and slow that morning. Miroku’s side was still tender from the centipede demon’s bite several days ago. Inuyasha may brush it off, but Yura’s blade had done some serious damage.
It wasn’t just that he needed Inuyasha to help reclaim the Jewel, either. The hanyou had saved his life. He had blocked attacks from multiple swords and a demon bird head in their short acquaintance, but it was Yura’s final strike which stuck in his mind. He’d tried to warn Inuyasha, had tried to push him out of the sword’s path, but Inuyasha had shoved him aside, had taken the blow instead. In the moment, Miroku had figured that the hanyou had misinterpreted or simply ignored his warnings and pushed him aside out of frustration. In hindsight, though, it seemed an awful lot like Inuyasha had taken the blow for him, a blow that he knew a human wouldn’t survive.
He and Inuyasha owed each other their lives, and they fought well together. He could almost say that they enjoyed each other’s company, though Inuyasha seemed to be disproving that theory with his latest disappearing act. He may be rude and uncouth, and a little more prone to violence than Miroku would have preferred, but he was nothing like any demon Miroku had ever met. He was intriguing, and Miroku wanted to know more.
Inuyasha lay on the branch of an old, dead tree and glared at the sky. It was further away than he’d normally go, on the opposite end of the village from Kaede’s hut, but then again, he wasn’t looking for company. He’d spent way too much time around humans recently, and it was starting to grind on his nerves. The repairs on the village were all but over and Miroku had told him not to strain his wounds. The monk obviously didn’t know who he was dealing with, but he would still use the excuse to get away from the villagers.
However, in the confines of Kaede’s hut, it only took a few hours of Miroku’s mothering before Inuyasha had had enough. But somehow, he just couldn’t seem to get rid of the human. Sure enough, the annoying tinkle of metal hoops and the familiar scent of the monk wafted up from the path below him. Inuyasha shoved down the mix of irritation, frustration, and something else which rose at the intrusion. He tried his best to ignore Miroku, but the monk walked right up to the base of the tree and stared up at him.
“We should change the bandages on your wound,” he said after Inuyasha continued to ignore him.
“Feh,” Inuyasha closed his eyes, maintaining his relaxed position. “Forget it! I don’t need that human garbage. Go away!”
“Inuyasha, your wounds are serious,” Miroku tried again, keeping his voice level and free from exasperation. “I know you’re stronger than humans, but Yura’s sword went straight through you twice.”
“Nothing to it.”
Miroku huffed a breath. So, that was how it was going to be, was it? He reached out with his mind and tugged on the nenju beads, not enough to pull Inuyasha from the tree, but enough for the hanyou to know he meant business. Inuyasha’s eyes blazed at him and he jumped down in front of Miroku, claws and teeth bared.
“You wanna go, monk?” he barked, his ears flicking back in obvious annoyance.
Miroku pulled a roll of bandages from his robes, his calm eroding under a wave of frustration. “Will you please just let me treat your wounds?”
“I said go away!” Inuyasha shouted, dancing back from the monk. “You’re acting like I’m the one who lost the fight. I don’t need your pity!”
Miroku barely resisted rolling his eyes. “This isn’t pity, Inuyasha – it’s common sense.”
“Fine!” Inuyasha snarled, ripping open his robes to reveal his bare chest. “You happy now?”
Miroku blinked. Not only had the bandages he’d put on the hanyou yesterday mysteriously disappeared, but so had the slash wound across his chest. Only the barest pink line remained, slightly shiny, not even a divot in the flesh. Miroku’s hand reached out of its own accord and he saw Inuyasha pull back slightly. He changed directions at the last moment, grabbing the edges of his robes and pulling them further apart to see the other two wounds. While this one might have healed, the other two had gone straight through his body. There was no way that they had healed in a single day!
“What’re you doing now?” Inuyasha spluttered, but Miroku didn’t miss the strangled note in his voice. “You stupid lecher!”
“What about the rest?” he demanded. “I’ll stop bothering you once I see.”
The sound of squealing children startled both of them, and they turned in unison to see Kaede walking toward them with a guarded expression. A small herd of children stood behind her.
“It seems as though you two are…getting along,” she said slowly, one eyebrow purposefully raised.
Miroku and Inuyasha both realized in the same instant how close they had gotten. Miroku’s hands were buried under the fabric of Inuyasha’s robes. Inuyasha had one hand curled in the monk’s kesa and the other clutched his shoulder. Miroku could feel the energy surge through Inuyasha, about to erupt, and he quickly averted the disaster.
“Kaede, did you know that Inuyasha could heal so quickly?” he asked, dropping one hand and using the other to pull open Inuyasha’s robes just enough to display one of the wounds.
Inuyasha rolled his shoulder to dislodge Miroku further, and they pulled away from each other almost naturally. Miroku and Kaede both pretended not to see how Inuyasha’s cheeks were burning.
“I thought you’d’ve figured out by now that my body’s different,” he muttered, though there was no real bite to his words. “Don’t pin your weird human standards on me.”
He let the left side of his suikan and hadagi fall open, revealing one of the two stab wounds. While not as beautifully healed as the slash line, it was already sealed with new pink skin – certainly not in the state of requiring a bandage. Miroku felt like a fool. Beside him, Kaede’s eye widened.
“For so great a wound to have healed so quickly – amazing!”
Inuyasha scoffed as he fixed his robes. “Look, just because it coulda killed a human don’t make it a big deal for someone like me!”
He glanced pointedly at Miroku, trying to tell the annoying human to piss off, but he shrank back a little at the quiet intensity with which the monk was looking at him. It made him feel uncomfortably exposed – throughout his life, when something took the time to look at him properly, it was mostly to decide how to try to kill him. He instinctively moved back a step, away from the prying eyes, and shrugged his robes back into place. Something flashed across Miroku’s face and he smiled briefly at Inuyasha before looking away. Inuyasha’s frown deepened. He turned slightly, and busied himself with retying the binds of his suikan.
Just as he’d finished securing the cloth, the muscles of his chest twitched with a faint stinging sensation.
“Ow,” he muttered.
He looked down to see an insect biting his chest. He was about to flick it off him when he saw the tiny hat on its back, and the green suikan he remembered staring at in his youth. Some kind of demon, then. As he glowered down at it, the flea looked up at him with a smile.
“Greetings and salutations, Master Inuyasha!”
Inuyasha slapped his hand against his skin, practically flattening the flea. He hummed as he looked at the creature on his palm, recognition sparking in his mind. “Well, if it ain’t ol’ Myoga.” He tipped his hand, letting the body fall to the ground. He knelt down beside it, frowning as old memories pushed their way to the surface. It had been a lifetime since he’d seen the flea. “So, whatcha come to see me about?”
Myoga popped himself up with beaming eyes. “It has been so long, Master! I cannot tell you how pleased I was to hear of your revival.”
Inuyasha swallowed down his shock in favour of anger. “You knew where I was this whole time, and didn’t do anything about it?”
“Human spells are difficult for any demon to navigate,” Myoga lectured him sternly. “But that’s not important right now. Master Inuyasha, I’ve come tell you-”
He cut himself off, and narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Miroku, who was crouching down next to them. Inuyasha looked between the flea and the monk. “Come on, Myoga. Out with it!”
“It is quite the story, Master,” Myoga insisted pointedly. “Are you sure it’s suitable for…human ears?”
To his credit, Miroku didn’t look overly offended at the prospect of a demon parasite considering him unworthy of his company. Inuyasha only sighed. “We’ll head back to Kaede’s and then you’ll tell me what’s got you so worked up.”
Myoga looked less than thrilled, but he didn’t argue. Inuyasha honestly didn’t know if the flea would disobey his orders, if it came down to it. They didn’t exactly have a steady working relationship. He didn’t flinch as the flea bounded up his arm to sit on his shoulder. He simply started heading back through the village, unsurprised when both humans trailed after him. Inuyasha could smell the disapproval rolling off Kaede, and the mild amusement from Miroku. Whatever. They could think whatever they wanted.
The sun was dipping toward the horizon as they neared the hut. Kaede kept on shooting accusatory looks at Inuyasha, like he didn’t get it. It wasn’t his fault that he was bringing another demon into her home. Anyways, Myoga was much more of an annoyance than a threat. Miroku was quiet, but Inuyasha could see him periodically sneaking glances at the flea. They settled down around the fire and Kaede began making tea. Inuyasha huffed a laugh through his nose at the ridiculousness of human customs. The old woman might hate the very existence of flea demons, but she’d still treat one as her guest. Humans were so weird. Miroku even rummaged around Kaede’s hut looking for something small enough for Myoga to use as a cup. Inuyasha just shook his head and pointedly waited for the flea to get on with it.
“Well, Master Inuyasha,” Myoga started dramatically as he cradled the small tea-filled shell that Miroku had procured. “The news I bring you is grave indeed. It seems that someone, a demon of some kind, has been attempting to locate your father’s tomb.”
Inuyasha ignored the slight increase in Miroku’s heartbeat and the sharp inhale from Kaede. They didn’t know anything. He didn’t give a damn about his father’s tomb, and didn’t know why Myoga thought he would.
“They attempted to break into several sites,” the flea continued obliviously. “And succeeded in destroying a symbolic memorial created in remembrance of your father. The disrespect!”
One of Inuyasha’s ears flicked back in confusion and annoyance. “Whaddya mean? They’re just going around smashing old relics or something?”
Myoga ignored the question, continuing on his self-righteous ramble. “As guardian of his final resting place, I can bear it no longer.”
“So you took off and came here instead,” Inuyasha snorted.
“It’s his remains that are important,” Myoga insisted. “The tomb that was destroyed was just stone. The site of your father’s actual resting place is in another location, along with a priceless artifact he took to his grave.”
Inuyasha was getting fed up with the evasive answers. “So where are the remains, then?”
“Regrettably, sire, no one knows.”
Inuyasha groaned and suppressed the urge to squash the flea again. “Some guardian you are.”
“Inuyasha,” Kaede said, her expression serious. “I have heard tell of your father, of the fearsome dog demon that once ruled over the western lands.”
“Can’t say that I remember him that well,” Inuyasha huffed, but both his ears had flicked back in unease.
Miroku looked between Inuyasha and Myoga, his eyes keen. He supposed it was only logical that Inuyasha’s father had been a demon, and a powerful one at that. It was just that he had never considered demons having…families.
“Your father was a demon among demons, great and powerful,” Myoga said wistfully. “He ruled one of the largest territories in the land for centuries. It was the greatest honour of my life to serve him. His blood was especially delicious. And you, Lord Inuyasha, have inherited that from him.”
Inuyasha scoffed and Miroku kept his expression carefully neutral. Lord Inuyasha, huh? This was a level of demon politics he had never encountered before, and yet he couldn’t reconcile the image of the hanyou with tangled hair, scuffed robes, and bare feet with a lord. Certainly, Inuyasha wasn’t concerned with decorum. Besides, who knew what kind of environment he was raised in-
“And what about his mother?” Miroku asked suddenly.
Inuyasha’s gut clenched, despite the gently curious tone in Miroku’s voice. Not his mother. She was off limits.
“She was a beauty beyond compare,” Myoga sighed, eyes closed. “A true-”
Inuyasha’s heel came down hard on the flea, having jumped over the fire to get to him. Miroku flinched backward in surprise. Inuyasha sniffed and stalked away.
“Inuyasha,” Miroku called, not reprimanding, just confused.
“Just drop it, okay?” Inuyasha snarled over his shoulder though he didn’t break his stride. “She died a long time ago.”
Miroku watched him go, conflicting emotions rising in his chest. He felt the strange urge to rush after Inuyasha, but he suspected that the hanyou wouldn’t welcome his company. Instead, he resolved to try and scrounge up a little more information while he still could.
“I apologize,” he said, turning his startled gaze back to Kaede. “I had no intention of angering him.”
Kaede didn’t meet his eyes as she poked life back into the fire. “Aye, well…”
Myoga brushed himself off the floor, apparently unfazed by being flattened again. “Lord Inuyasha has always preferred not to speak of her.”
Miroku stared hard at the tea in his hands, trying not to analyze the hunch of Inuyasha’s shoulder or his crumpled expression as he’d left. He’d seen the anger blazing in those amber eyes, but there was something else in there, too – a deep pain that Inuyasha couldn’t keep hidden. Pushing aside his own reciprocal emotions, Miroku focused on the situation.
Even if Inuyasha wanted to investigate whatever was going on with his father’s tomb, which seemed unlikely, it would mean waylaying their search for the Jewel shards. Then again, they were probably not going to find many more around Kaede’s village, as there was no doubt that any nearby had already been snatched up by opportunistic demons. They might have to leave soon regardless. If it would help Inuyasha to look into the situation with the tomb, then perhaps they could make the timing line up. If it would allow them to work together better, the benefits would outweigh the potential life-threatening danger of facing down an angry demon searching for Inuyasha’s dead father.
Miroku sighed, drawing a suspicious glance from Kaede, but he waved her off. Yes, unfortunately their lives weren’t so simple.
~*~
Inuyasha had made his escape to a tree again, climbing to the highest branch that could support his weight. Despite his best efforts, his breathing came hard and fast, and he dug his claws into the tree because the wood was better than the palms of his hands. He closed his eyes. Mother… It had been so long. As much as he tried to suppress the pain which blossomed at the very thought of her, the memories were still too raw, too tangled up with everything else that had happened. And even then, she existed in a separate place in his mind, untouchable and protected fiercely from anyone else. He had never spoken about her after her death, except with Kikyo that once, before she’d betrayed him. He’d learned his fucking lesson then, that was for sure. And what right did Miroku have to ask about her, anyway? And what right did Myoga have to describe how she was? The flea hadn’t even known her – not really. No one had ever known her after he was born. The world had fucking turned against her, against both of them, and he never-
He took a deep breath, calming his rapid heart. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore. Myoga could piss off and deal with whatever this thing was with his father. He didn’t care. He had other shit in his life to deal with.
An ear twitched of its own accord as he picked up the tinkle of the monk’s staff. Miroku seemed to have made a habit of following him whenever he ran off to be alone. It was unbelievably annoying.
Miroku stopped at the bottom of the tree but didn’t look up, still lost in thought. A human mother. Miroku didn’t know why it had never truly registered before. Of course, he knew that one of Inuyasha’s parents had to have been human to produce a hanyou, and from the little research he’d done before, he knew that it was often the mothers. Still…Inuyasha was raised by a human mother. Did that mean he was raised amongst humans? Was that why he didn’t kill the villagers, why Kaede felt it was safe to let him wander? Miroku had long abandoned any fears of Inuyasha being a mortal danger to humans, but it was interesting to imagine what had brought a hanyou to live in human society.
Yura had mocked Inuyasha for being half-demon, as had the centipede before. Inuyasha wanted to use the Jewel to turn into a full demon. Was that it? Did he resent his human mother, blame her for his mixed heritage? Did…did he hate her? The mere thought made Miroku’s heart ache. Was that why Inuyasha hated humans, even if he didn’t attack them? The reason that he didn’t want to hear about his mother?
Miroku turned and sat down, his back against the trunk of the tree, his staff on his lap. He waited quietly for a few moments until he finally felt Inuyasha’s eyes on him.
“I’m sorry,” he said, quietly enough that only hanyou ears could have detected it.
Inuyasha harrumphed, but the mixture of dry humour and annoyance quickly bled from his chest. It left him hollow. He responded with a similarly gentle “Don’t be.”
It wasn’t Miroku’s fault that she was gone, after all. He just really didn’t want to talk about her, and desperately hoped that Miroku wasn’t in the mood for asking questions. Thankfully, the monk was silent for another long while. Inuyasha slid solemnly back into his own thoughts, and almost startled at the human’s calm and level voice.
“It must have been difficult, growing up in a world so prejudiced against hanyou.”
Inuyasha looked away sharply, his claws digging into the tree. Oddly enough, the flash of anger that rose at the intrusion was quickly replaced by what was almost gratitude. There was no malice in the monk’s words, no derision or judgement. He was simply stating a fact. A fact that was usually mocked or overlooked, not recognized with compassion.
“It’s fine,” he muttered, even though it very much wasn’t.
“Forgive me for saying this,” Miroku said slowly. “But I am sure that your mother would be proud of the man you grew to be.”
That shocked Inuyasha so much that he almost fell out of the tree. This time the anger didn’t fade. How would Miroku know? How dare he presume to know anything? They had met a handful of days ago and the monk knew nothing about him! How dare he- ‘What?’ a small voice in his head asked. ‘How dare he compliment you?’ Inuyasha pushed the voice away, but again he found his anger gone with it. It seemed that the monk’s stupid calm was almost infectious.
“I don’t mean to presume,” Miroku added, and Inuyasha snorted at the words which mirrored his own thoughts so perfectly. “I’m afraid I don’t have much experience in the realm of mothers.”
Inuyasha’s ears pricked despite himself. He looked down at the monk, but Miroku was still looking out at something in the far distance, his posture relaxed. He didn’t sound like he was fishing for something. He was just saying. Sharing. Sympathizing. Whatever it was, it didn’t make Inuyasha’s hackles raise, even if the intimacy of the subject was uncomfortable. He swallowed and looked away, unsure how to respond to a statement like that. Luckily, it didn’t take long for Miroku to continue.
“I never really knew my mother,” he said quietly. “From what I understand, my father hadn’t fully explained the concept of the family curse before convincing her to have his child. Once she found out that her child was forfeit, she left me on the temple steps and never returned. I don’t remember her at all.”
Inuyasha couldn’t help but stare at the monk as a mixture of confusion, sympathy, and awkward and dismissive gratitude all rolled through his chest. He didn’t know how to do this. People didn’t share things with him. But Miroku’s voice was so soft and undemanding, and the experience a twisted mirror of his own. At least his father hadn’t willingly abandoned him and his mother. At least his mother had tried her best, even with his own curse of mixed blood.
Inuyasha didn't know what Miroku’s life had been like growing up – and he wasn’t about to ask – but he felt bad regardless. He couldn’t imagine growing up without his mother. She had been such a huge part of his early life, so unspeakably important to him. She had been the reason he tried to do better during the rough times, and even after her death, it was the thought of her that kept him going. He guessed he had never really realized how lucky he was to have her there, even after she was gone.
It struck him that this may have been Miroku’s true intention, to get him to focus on the positive side of his relationship with her. Or maybe he’d just wanted to share a little of himself, to make Inuyasha feel less alone. Either way, it was more than anyone else had ever done for him. A wretched sort of gratitude pushed aside all the other feelings and he had to swallow the lump in his throat. He watched Miroku climb to his feet, start to walk away without another word. Inuyasha opened his mouth to call out to him, to say something – though he had no idea what – when his eyes snapped up to the dusk sky.
An ominous wind picked up out of nowhere, and a sense of danger crawled up his spine. Miroku had stopped as well, was looking upwards in confusion. Seeing the human sparked something deep inside Inuyasha, awakening the youki within him. Danger. Human. Protect! He leapt from the tree without really registering it, pushing the monk’s head onto to the ground. “Get down!”
Miroku gave a muffled groan of surprise as his face slammed into the dirt, but he could feel the tension rippling through Inuyasha, could feel the claws curling nervously around his skull before releasing him. He could sense it in the wind, too – a nameless danger that made him itch with the need to either fight or get away.
“Something’s coming,” Inuyasha said, eyes fixed on the sky. “Can you feel it?”
Miroku followed his gaze, shocked to see a dark procession outlined against the moon. Several smaller figures floated around… “A carriage?” Miroku squinted, barely making out the outline of a chained human figure as the wind revealed her. “A woman?”
Inuyasha stood beside him, and Miroku could see his claws clenched into fists, the tension running down his body.
“Inuyasha?” he asked quietly.
“M-mother?” His voice was choked with emotion, disbelieving.
Miroku blinked, taking in the carriage with fresh eyes. Mother? But Inuyasha had just said…
She turned to him, her face devastatingly familiar. They locked eyes, and Inuyasha saw her suck in a sharp breath.
“It is you!” she startled, the words faint, her voice barely carrying over the wind. “Inuyasha-”
Inuyasha’s ears strained at the voice which seared through his mind, fighting to hear more, the air frozen in his lungs. He couldn’t believe it. She was there! But how-? It didn’t matter. Her cry of pain as chains dug into her sparked fury in his veins like nothing he’d experienced before. He lurched forward, driven completely by a blinding instinct to protect. “Mother!”
Miroku’s eyes darted from the hanyou to the carriage and back. “Inuyasha, your mother- You said-”
The carriage drifted further away and his mother’s faint voice went with it. No, nonono- Panic ripped through him, even before the giant clawed hand of a monstrous demon reached from the sky, grabbing at the carriage. Inuyasha watched in cold horror as the carriage was crushed, as the giant demon the size of a mountain emerged from the clouds, as his mother was held limp and helpless in its grasp. Inuyasha ran. He ran without feeling the ground beneath his feet or the wind snatching at his hair. He jumped high into the air, snarled as a blast of fire reached from somewhere along the demon to meet him. His youki was burning within him, trying to claw free. He used its power to change path midair, dodging the fire as it came again and again. But he couldn’t stay airborne, not long enough. He landed in a crouch, the scorched earth right before him.
“Damn,” he swore under his breath, before turning his blazing gaze at the demon. He needed to keep its attention on him. “You missed!”
A figure was on the giant demon’s arm, dressed in white. His voice was barely-there, the words unintelligible, but Inuyasha would recognize that smug ass anywhere. His stomach dropped as he realized just how dangerous the situation was. He lifted his face to the wind and breathed in the scent that was far too similar to his own. “It is you, Sesshomaru!”
“Indeed.” Sesshomaru kept his voice low, probably mocking his hanyou hearing now as well. “I’ve quite missed you as well, little brother.”
Miroku looked between Inuyasha and the figure effortlessly perched on the demon’s arm. He and Inuyasha had the same long silvery-white hair, and the figure was definitely a demon – the demonic aura around him was unmistakable – and this was someone that Inuyasha knew by name. He’d said his father was dead – then again, he’d said the same about his mother – so…was this some other relative of his? Another dog demon he was related to? They certainly didn’t seem very familial. But Myoga had called Inuyasha a Lord, and Miroku had no doubt that this new demon fit that description well. He wore rich silk robes of pure white, splashed decoratively with crimson which spoke of royal birth. There was some kind of thick furred rope draped over the figure’s shoulder like a sash. His angular features were schooled into a cold, haughty expression. The demonic markings painting his cheeks and brow also indicated great power. Whoever this demon was, he was not someone that Miroku would ever want to fight.
Inuyasha sneered, disguising his sharp inhale with the motion. He could smell the faint anger in his brother’s scent. Sesshomaru’s gaze left his and his narrowed at Miroku. Inuyasha shifted slightly to stand more in front of the monk.
“A mortal,” Sesshomaru muttered, not hiding the scorn in his voice. “How interesting. I didn’t know you had a new pet.”
Inuyasha growled, one arm reaching out to block Miroku further. He didn’t like where this was going. His priorities clashed unbearably, as another gasp of pain from his mother forced him forward a step, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be able to protect both humans at once.
“Others would be shamed but with you, little brother,” Sesshomaru continued. “It suits you to stick to humans.”
His mother cried out as a little piece of vermin yanked a chain around her throat. He burned with the need to get her down – get her back – and his whole body was tensed to snap.
“These disgusting creatures,” Sesshomaru said nonchalantly as he looked blankly down at the struggling woman. “I should think you’d have had enough of them. Or did you also inherit the need to further disgrace demon-kind?”
Inuyasha growled, more than ready to kill the pompous ass, but he forced himself to keep a level head. He needed to get to her, more than anything else. He would play Sesshomaru’s game for as long as it took to get her back. Then he’d kill him. “That’s not all, is it? You couldn’t’ve come all this way just to tell me that.”
“Do not be a fool. I am not so idle as that,” Sesshomaru sneered. “The tomb of our father – where must I seek it?”
“Our father’s tomb?” Well, that was certainly interesting timing. “Why bother asking me?”
“Seeing, yet never seen.” Sesshomaru recited flatly. “Protected, yet never known to its protector. No other remnants are known.”
“Oh, you write poetry now?” Inuyasha snarled, pointing an angry finger at the asshole he was unfortunate enough to be related to. “I got no idea what you’re talking about! Besides, even if I did, there’s no way I’d tell you anything!”
“I see…” Sesshomaru said impassively. “Then you leave me no choice but to let your mother’s suffering convince you.”
A jolt of pure panic travelled through Inuyasha’s stomach even as he laughed. “Nice try, you pompous fucker. She’s been dead for years and we both know it. As if I’d really fall for some stupid trick like that!”
He was convincing himself as he spoke. She was dead. He saw her die. She was dead. It couldn’t be her. But Sesshomaru’s cocky half-smile made unease rise in his gut. “A trick, is it?”
“You’re who’s stupid!” a new voice shrieked from behind Sesshomaru. Inuyasha’s eyes snapped to the little imp waving a staff at him, barely more than a speck on the giant demon. What the hell was this one? His shrill voice grated on Inuyasha’s ears. “Recalling spirits from the netherworld is a simple task for someone as great and powerful as Lord Sesshomaru. He was even so kind as to give her flesh! And yet her own son would deny it. How sad to be mother to one such as you! How mortifying!”
No…it couldn’t be. Could it? Was it really-? Inuyasha’s chest was heaving with each breath, the entire world narrowed down to the woman suspended before him.
“I have come back, Inuyasha,” she said quietly. “Back from the world of the dead.”
The demon squeezed, she gasped in pain, and Inuyasha saw red. “Stop hurting her!”
He jumped for her, screamed out “Iron Reaver, Soul Stealer!” He sliced straight through the demon’s arm with his claws – but she was falling! Too fast, too far- She would be hurt! He watched Miroku run forward, had almost forgotten the monk was there, but now he would reach her in time-
Miroku caught the bundle of woman and demon hand and chains, his staff cast aside. The impact knocked him to the ground, driving the air from his lungs, but he quickly slid out from under her. The little imps on her squealed and scampered away. Miroku leaned in, hearing her shallow breaths. “Are you alright?”
“Miroku!” Inuyasha’s desperate shout caught his attention. “Get her out of here!”
“I think not,” Sesshomaru intoned, lifting a hand. A whip made of yellow-green light formed at his clawed fingertips, sizzling with concentrated youki as he turned to glare at the giant demon. “And you, you’re worthless.”
Inuyasha watched the whip lash across the giant demon’s face with a flare of immense power, saw the demon obediently reaching for- “Mother!”
He hurled himself forward, placing his body between her and the demon. He heard her call out for him. Then, a ripping hot pain tore through him as giant demon claws pierced his back.
Miroku gasped as Inuyasha was momentarily suspended above them, his momentum brought to a sickening stop by the giant demonic claws jutting through skin and muscle. Miroku was about to move, but Inuyasha’s mother was faster. She raised her hands, an orb of white light appearing between them, and as the swing of the demon’s hand carried Inuyasha forward, the orb grew outwards in a flash of blinding light. Miroku felt it wash over him with crackling energy, then the darkness close in around him.
~*~
The pounding in his back forced Inuyasha to open his eyes. He could feel the blood spreading over his skin, but it wasn’t a deadly blow. He didn’t think it had even broken any bones. He pushed slightly upright with a flash of pain, blinking around him. He was…where, exactly? The darkness around him had been replaced by light, brighter than any place should be. The sky was a pale peach colour, and all he could hear was the whisper of the wind in the grass and the soft lapping of clear water against the gently sloping shore. He crawled to his hands and knees, taking it all in. It was beautiful. But, “Where is this?”
“At the border of the spirit world.”
He turned around at the gentle voice, ignoring the flash of pain, still not believing his eyes. But she was there, right in front of him. So real, so close…
“I must be crossing over again very soon.” Her voice was as soft as a summer breeze as it washed over him.
“Oh, yeah…right.” He blinked back the sting of tears that suddenly bit at his eyes. “You’re…dead, after all. I never thought you’d come back. I lost you so long ago.”
She turned away, towards the shore, and he had no choice but to follow. A twinge of something made him look over at Miroku’s unconscious form, quickly check the monk’s heartbeat, but that was all. She was more important. She was leaving him again.
“Inuyasha.” Her voice was silken, and so sad. So achingly familiar. “You…you’ve become a man, haven’t you?”
“Well, yeah,” he shrugged. “I mean, I guess I was still just a kid when you died.”
He didn’t mention that he’d stopped being a child the moment he’d felt her cold, lifeless hand in his. That from then on, he hadn’t let himself feel anything for years. Hadn’t had a home, or a place in the world, or a reason to keep going other than the fact that it was what she would have wanted.
“Such terrible, violent days,” she whispered, lost in memories, too. “And you all alone, with no one to care for you?” She turned, her piercing eyes meeting his. “How you must have suffered. How can you ever forgive me?”
A wave of emotion almost knocked him off his feet. She wasn’t supposed to know that. He’d tried so hard to protect her from just how bad it had been, how much worse it had gotten after she’d died. He turned away, unable to face everything rising within him. She had ripped him raw, tearing away the walls he’d been building even back when she was alive. He reached for them now, bracing himself against the old sorrow and hurt that threatened to consume him. Brush it off. It doesn’t matter, now. “It wasn’t that big a deal.” A choked breath. “And it wasn’t your fault.”
“Inuyasha…”
The emotion in her voice made him turn, made him abandon the last shred of his defenses. It was really her. He could only stare in wide-eyed wonder. It was really her.
Miroku clawed his way back to consciousness, fighting against the black tar in his mind and the lead in his limbs. What had happened? It was a struggle just to open his eyes. The bright light made him squint, and it took a while for the world to focus. The red of Inuyasha’s robes drew his gaze first, then the beautiful woman beside him. She was alright, at least, and so was he. Miroku tried to lift his head, to get a better look at their surroundings, but something was keeping him there. He blinked against the fuzziness in his mind. What was going on? He- he couldn’t move! Even the panic that emerged was muted. There must be a powerful spell over him. That didn’t bode well, even if there hadn’t been something profoundly off about the whole situation.
He tried to move each limb in turn, but couldn’t so much as twitch a finger. What was this? He cast his eyes around for any hint as to what was causing his imprisonment. Thank the powers that be that he could still do that much. His gaze fell upon the image of the mother and son pair reflected in the eerily still pond. It took a moment for the sight before him to make sense, to register what was so horribly wrong. Her face! Only a smooth, blank mask filled the space where Inuyasha’s mother's face should be. With tremendous effort, he opened his mouth to try and get out more than a muffled “mmphf.” Instead, a new problem emerged. His voice! He had no voice! Real fear seized him. He was powerless, at the mercy of whatever was going on. He stared hard at Inuyasha, willing the hanyou to realize that something was terribly wrong.
She moved to his side, her eyes never leaving his. She looked so sad. “Partings are never easy, wouldn’t you agree?”
He couldn’t. He couldn’t lose her again, not after having her back for such a short time. He looked away, unable to meet her gaze. “I…”
Miroku stared at Inuyasha, begging him to just turn a little further, to just look. He could figure it out, Miroku was sure. Even through the tantalizing fog of this horrible fantasy, Inuyasha had to realize that this creature wasn’t human! That thing, whatever she was, whatever she wanted… Inuyasha, please! It’s not your mother!
~*~
