***I did not write or claim to write this fanfic***
>Author’s Notes: Buddhism includes the concept of the eight pains that, along with other things, bring us unhappiness. Miroku’s curse brings him one more. This is meant to occur immediately after Miroku’s Kazaana is repaired by Mushin, Episode 28 in the anime.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“The Ninth Pain”
by Scribe of Figaro
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Only a day had passed since the incident at Mushin’s home, but already Miroku was recovered and ready to travel with them again.
During this day they found themselves in a vast forest. Their road was clear and the weather was fair, especially here beneath the canopy where it was cool. All of them seemed in good spirits, as they normally were when one deed was done and they were ready to move on to the next. Inuyasha was annoyed, as usual, though this time not for their wasting time to exterminate a youkai without receiving a shikon shard, but for Miroku’s leaving them. By doing so he managed to get himself and the others into much more trouble than they would have been in if he had simply told them he was going to Mushin to have his Kazaana repaired.
Miroku’s tendency to throw away his life for others really grated on his nerves, especially since he seemed to enjoy every chance he had to do so. Even a samurai didn’t throw away his life at every single opportunity. His suicidal behavior could someday get them killed. He was . . .
Inuyasha frowned. His friend? No, not quite that. Partner? Hm. No, still too friendly.
Useful.
Yes, that was it. Miroku was useful, and without his houriki they couldn’t do much against mononoke or other creatures that lacked physical form. Those things that did - Inuyasha absently tapped the scabbard of Tetsusaiga for comfort - were cut.
Miroku was useful. Sango was strong, and had that neko youkai. Both were helpful in battle. Shippou was annoying, but Kagome probably wouldn’t follow him anymore if he got rid of the damn kitsune.
Kagome was . . . important.
Inuyasha turned around, glancing at the young girl in the strange, kimono that trotted a few steps behind him. She smiled; he hesitantly smiled back.
Kagome was very important. And smelled nice.
Inuyasha smiled, nodding with satisfaction. He might be a hanyou, but even he could appreciate a pleasant walk, especially with the promise of the rest of the day. They would find another shikon shard soon, and another, and another. The shikon collection around Kagome’s neck would grow, and soon be whole. It may take years, but he could wait. His youkai blood blessed him with eternal patience for things so important.
Well, maybe his patience wasn’t that -
Wait.
Inuyasha’s ears twitched, and there was a moment of panic as he tried to figure out what caught his attention.
Youkai? Mononoke? Wild thieves?
Footsteps. I don’t hear the bouzu’s footsteps anymore.
“Miroku,” he queried, curious and a little annoyed. Sango, Kagome, and Shippou also stopped and turned to face the monk that stood behind them.
Miroku held his right hand before him, studying the magically sealed palm with growing alarm.
“What’s wrong, Miroku?” shouted Shippou.
“It . . .” he uttered. “It’s time.”
He looked up at them, studying their faces for a brief but thoughtful moment.
“The Kazaana. I must go.”
Kagome took a step toward him, her hand outstretched to him as if to grip his arm in friendly assurance.
“No!” he shouted, stepping backward, his cursed right hand extended behind himself, his left holding his staff horizontally between himself and the group, barring them from coming any nearer.
“Stay away,” he shouted. “I beg you to keep your path.” He relaxed his right hand for a moment and let it hang at his side. “If you trust me, you will leave me to my fate.”
He was walking backwards now. Though they stared, none in the party moved.
“Goodbye,” he stated, the word heavy as he turned and ran down the forest path.
“Houshi-sama,” Sango whispered.
“Kuso!” Inuyasha shouted. All that effort to save his stupid life and the Kazaana ends up consuming it the next day.
“Damn that Mushin and his drunken handiwork,” he cursed.
“What do we do?” Shippou asked.
Sango crossed her arms.
“We go after him.”
All of them, even Inuyasha, took notice of such a bold statement.
“Keh,” he hanyou spat. “I’m sure you’re more excited than even me to see that bouzu sucked into oblivion, but if we get too close to him he’ll kill us all.”
“Osuwari!”
Inuyasha’s shout of anger was muffled by the dirt Kaede’s curse drove his face into.
Kagome growled, her hands in fists to her sides, her eyes closed with the impatience that weighed heavily on them.
“He has a point,” she muttered. “We can’t help him if his curse is really . . .” she paused. “We can wait here and hope he’s wrong, and search for him later. There’s no danger in leaving Miroku by himself a few hours.”
Sango nodded, setting down Hiraikotsu with a heavy thud.
“But Sango-chan,” Kagome asked placing her hand on the taiji-ya’s shoulder, “why are you so eager to go after him?”
Sango sighed. “I guess I’ve lost so many friends and family recently I’m not willing to lose any more. Even that stupid houshi.”
She looked up, seeing Kagome with that particular look she had before hugging someone.
Sango snorted. “Besides, I don’t want to give him enough time to terrorize more village girls.”
- - - - - - - - - -
The sun set. Kagome slept, Shippou curled up next to her, Inuyasha kept watch near her, and Sango gritted her teeth.
She walked a bit from camp to dress in her taiji-ya uniform. She didn’t need to go very far, as no one there had any interest in seeing her undressed. She returned to camp belting on her wakizashi.
Inuyasha glared at her while she picked up Hiraikotsu and slung it over her shoulder.
“It’s been hours,” she said. “If he’s already dead, then at least we’ll know. And if he’s still alive, there’s a good chance he’s going to get himself in trouble.”
“If he’s faking it, I don’t blame you if you kill him.”
Sango strapped on her weapon and called Kirara. As she mounted the animal and took to the sky, Inuyasha muttered under his breath: “You better find him, Sango.”
Sango expected him to be in the nearest clearing, several hours back from where they were camped. If he took his Buddhist vows very seriously - at times he did - he would choose such a place to be sure his Kazaana did the least amount of damage. With Kirara she could reach the spot in a few minutes.
Sango touched ground near the treeline. The meadow before her looked somber in the moonlight, but she sensed no demons here. With her keen eyes she immediately made out the dark form of a man sitting what may have been the perfect center of the field.
“Stay here, Kirara,” she whispered. Her companion sat and waited with an air of unending patience.
She approached cautiously, still not sure what to make of the figure that sat before her. She was wary of tricks and thus kept her heavy weapon at the ready.
When she was within a few yards of the monk she recognized his face, his clothes, and the staff that was embedded in the ground beside him, glowing faintly.
A weak demon ward. He must not fear much here.
“Sango,” he said. His eyes were closed still, and she thought him asleep until he had spoken.
“How did you know it was me?”
He opened one eye, as if to confirm his assumption. “I recognized your gait the moment you stepped from the forest. A female taija-ya steps so light that, if heard, she cannot be confused with any animal that dwells in these lands.” Again his eyes closed, and he seemed to frown. “I asked you not to approach me.”
Sango laid down her weapon and kneeled not more than a yard from him. “I had the feeling you’d not let me get this close unless the danger was passed.”
With a sigh he broke from his meditation and opened his eyes. “No, I wouldn’t.”
“What happened, Houshi-sama?”
He said nothing.
Sango bit her lip, a bit unsure of what to do. She wanted to reach out to him, to touch him in a moment of reassurance, but she hesitated.
If I get any closer he’s just going to grab me, like he always does.
He was looking at her, but she could not read his glance at all.
If he’s toying with me again . . .
Her face stiffened in anger, then resolution, and without thinking she found herself scooting closer to the houshi. She outstretched her hand to him, paused, and gently brought the hand to his cheek.
Miroku jumped at the touch. His eyes were wide.
He’s . . . frightened. For all his lecherous mannerisms, the gentle touch of a woman still rattles him so?
“S-sango?”
She let go, clasping her hands together in her lap.
“Tell me, Houshi-sama. What happened today? Why did you leave us?”
He gaped at her for a moment and seemed to gain his composure.
“I felt pain. It was different than before - I’ve never had it hurt like that, not while it was sealed.” He paused, apparently hoping Sango would interrupt, but she was silent. “I thought that was it - the last warning sign I had before the Kazaana consumed me and all those around me.”
“But it didn’t.”
“No,” he sighed. “No, it was a phantom pain, probably from the youkai that damaged it before. It was the first time I had felt such a thing.”
“So you were mistaken?” Her voice seemed to rise, and a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. So he will live after all.
“Yes, I was mistaken.” He brought his cursed hand out from the sleeve of his robe and held it above his lap, tracing over the rosary beads that sealed it with his right hand. “The Kazaana will someday consume me, perhaps far sooner than I had expected. But I don’t know what it will feel like, or how much warning I will have.”
“Houshi-sama,” she whispered. “Don’t say such things. You’ll survive. We’re getting closer to defeating Naraku every day.”
“We are,” he said. “But until we do defeat him, I am a constant threat to all of you. If I can’t know when the Kazaana begins to come apart, then I put all of you in danger.”
I’ve never heard him speak like this. He never talks of himself, of the Kazaana, to this degree. Does he always feel this way?
Sango shook her head. “You’re not, Houshi-sama. We need you. We can’t fight Naraku by ourselves.”
“You can find better houshi if you look for them, Sango. Ones without curses.”
“Why are you acting like this, Houshi-sama?”
He tilted his head slightly, the innocent sort of look he used sometimes when he tried to tease her. “I’m sorry, Sango. I don’t mean to.” He seemed about to say something else, but stopped.
Was that embarrassment on his face?
“We’re all part of this, Houshi-sama. We need everyone we can get to fight Naraku. We can’t afford leaving anyone aside.”
She took his shoulders, and again she saw the reaction, the briefest of breaks in the mask of indifference he wore. She gripped him tightly.
“Houshi-sama, I’ll never forgive you if you make me say this without needing to.” She relaxed her grasp slightly but did not let go. Sango raised her eyebrows quizzically. “You seriously think we’re better off leaving you alone?”
He stared at her, saying nothing. So unnerving was his expression, so vacant.
I hope he is faking this. I hope he just wanted me to lean in like this so he could grope my chest, and I could strike him across the face again, and we’d be back to this tenuous friendship we keep.
She grunted. “We need you, Houshi-sama. You’re a powerful monk. We trust in your houriki and shakujou. You hold your own in battle. And with the exception of your unyielding lechery,” she grinned a bit despite herself, “you’re one of the kindest souls I have ever known.”
He was blushing now.
He never blushes. Ever. It’s . . . kind of cute.
“Sango, I . . .” He looked at her, and for a moment it seemed he doubted her sincerity, but only for a moment. “Thank you. I don’t think anyone has ever complimented me like that before.”
He held his cursed hand before her, again feeling the beads that sealed it.
“But I cannot repay your kindness with this. I can’t keep you near me and risk my fate. If I can’t tell when the seal will break, then. . .”
He clenched a fist.
“Sango, I’ve seen what the Kazaana does when the curse claims a man fully, and with that knowledge I cannot allow another to face that oblivion. To know I could bring that pain upon another, a friend, all my friends, and unwillingly claim the half-demon, the priestess, and the demon-slayer who together posed the last and best chance against Naraku . . . Sango, I can’t allow it!”
She reached toward his hand to protectively hold it in her own, but hesitated.
I can’t touch him there - not in the most sensitive part of his body. Well . . . the part of his body that controls his life. . .
With great effort she stifled a giggle.
Cautiously she took his hand, the cursed hand, and ran her fingers along the beads that sealed it. He looked at her with something between fear and embarrassment, and slowly, so that he would have time to stop her if he wanted, she fingered the Kazaana over its protective coverings.
“Houshi-sama, if that time comes, I swear upon my life as a demon-slayer that I will be ready to push you free of any innocents.”
“You would die, Sango.”
“We would die together.”
Again he stared, opening his mouth, about to speak. What words formed in his mind she could only imagine.
Don’t lie to me, Sango.
Don’t speak of things you don’t understand, Sango.
Don’t put this weight on me, Sango.
Would you bear my child, Sango?
Thank you, Sango.
I love you, Sango.
He said nothing. Part of her wanted him to speak. It would be so much easier if he ruined the moment.
There’s something in me that cares for you, that desires passion, that wants you, Miroku. I don’t really like it, and I’d kill it if I could. But I can’t, and I’m thankful for you wandering hands, at least a little. Were it not for them, I fear you’d capture my heart and break it. It’s so much easier to focus on killing Naraku when you’re being too much of a pervert for me to waste my thoughts on you.
“Come on, Houshi-sama. The others are waiting for us.”
She stood up, extended a hand, brought Miroku to his feet. He pulled his staff loose from the ground and held it lazily to his side.
“I’m not sure what to say, Sango.”
She smiled as he fell in step beside her. Kirara bounded across the field to meet them.
“If you’re smart, Houshi-sama, you won’t say anything.”
He didn’t, but greeted her with the palm of his hand as she turned to mount the firecat. She gasped as she felt his touch, then turned around to smack him. As always he stood his ground, grinning like a fool as she climbed atop Kirara.
“Your ride to camp is full now, Houshi-sama,” she hissed. “Have a pleasant walk.”
He was still smiling at her, and when she looked over her shoulder the moment before he disappeared from view, he waved cheerfully.
Baka.
I can’t understand why you keep doing this to me. It seems every time we reach a point where I warm to you, you ruin it. Why, Houshi-sama? Does it amuse you to toy with me? Do you hate me? Or do you not care?
She sighed lightly, leaning her face toward her firecat’s mane.
Or is it something else, Houshi-sama? Is it that curse that drives you to seek women so carelessly? Is it your desperation for an heir that makes you this way?
And when you hurt me, is it because you love me, Houshi-sama? Do you ruin our relationship deliberately, because you want to protect me from your curse?
A smile tugged at her lips.
Maybe I think too much of you. But if this is some sort of game, I’m going to win, Houshi-sama.
One of these days, I’m going to figure you out.
