Daddy Dearest – Part Eleven: The Devious Demon Sakura

Xandra: Endorsement time. If you like DBZ or you know what it is, do me a favor and look up my protégé, Blake Develyn. He's a new writer, and new to FFnet, and I've been helping him out with his writing skills, so if you have spare time, look him up and read his stories. Don't forget to review. Also, if you like Inuyasha as much as I do, look up the story 'When Tomorrow Starts Without You' by a new friend of mine, ShenYue. Angst, slight mystery, romance, some fluff and an @$$ load of adventure. Review this one too--I loved it, and I know you will too.

As for this chapter, all fans of Mikiro that have been screaming for Miroku to pull his head out and do his job as a father, be ready. He's actually going make the attempt! (You can stop gawking now!)

Oh, and as for the five or so people (including Miss Achika, who only reviews to tell me when I do something wrong and/or not to her liking [grrr...]) that mentioned the out-of-timeline appearance of Kaorushin, once again, I HAVE MY REASONS FOR IT AND I KNOW, and next time you feel like bitching me out because you DECIDE that the AUTHOR of the story is WRONG when you have no clue, EMAIL ME, do NOT waste my time on the review section. Thank you. (To anyone that doesn't get it, FYI: Inuyasha's timeline is around the 1500s, while Kenshin's is the Meiji Era, around the 1800's. There are reasons for the untimely appearance of Kaorushin, I assure you.)

Okay, done venting. Sorry, had to do it. Done now. Enjoy!

Sakura raised an eyebrow as she carried her unconscious captive through the forest, hanging limpl6y under her arm like a sack of rocks. With slight amusement, she eavesdropped on the chaos raging just beyond the trees on the trail. She'd already prepped the boy, injuring him to a point, so she'd have an alibi and a reason to offer the group refuge for the night. Her plan was infallible. \\Just in time for the fight,// she thought as she approached the noise. She peeked out, then smiled.

The monk was strangling the hanyou, sitting on his back with the staff's pole held against the other's throat, choking him mercilessly as the others protected.

"Miroku, you'll KILL him!" the girl with the jewel fragment exclaimed, watching with the kitsune as the huntress continued her battle to pull the young houshi off the half-demon.

"THAT is the entire POINT, Kagome!" he shouted.

"But it's not helping anything!"

"Oh yeah? It's making me FEEL better!"

"Mi--ro--ku..." the demon choked, "I...can't...(cough) breathe...get...(choke) off me, you stupid (gag)--!"

"Oh, stop fussing and DIE ALREADY!"

Sakura smirked. //Huh...never thought the man had it in him! Too bad he's human or else I'd consider HIM instead of that sexy dog-boy. After all, he's pretty cute himself, and who KNOWS what he's hiding under that robe...// Then, she paused and blinked. //Oops! Better stop him before he kills my mate!//

"Miroku," the huntress was insisting, "You're being a fool! You should be out looking for your son, and after all, you can always beat Inuyasha later!"

"Oh--thanks--Sango--" Inuyasha gagged. He was starting to turn blue.

Sakura quickly took a less conspicuous form, that of a mature young woman with wavy golden hair and pale, silvery-green eyes, (a great contrast to her naturally platinum hair and matching white-gold eyes) dressed in a simple yukata. With her disguise complete, she stepped daintily from the forest and onto the path, making herself quite visible, the little boy cradled tenderly in her arms.

Now that she seemed completely harmless and had her bait, it was time to hall in the prey. Thank the gods for great acting! "Um...ahem..." she said softly, feinting innocence, "Excuse me..."

~

Miroku looked up from his task and his jaw dropped open as his eyes hit a stunningly beautiful woman, who had appeared from seemingly no where. However, her beauty was not what made him stare, but the fact that she held in her arms his son, unconscious, but safe nonetheless.

"Forgive me for interrupting," she said, "but...does this child perhaps belong with one of you?"

His tense hands went limp and he dropped his staff, relieving Inuyasha of the torture, then jumped to his feet and stepped on his back to get past, heedlessly. ("Oww!" the half-demon spat, "Damn it, Miroku!" but he was completely ignored.) He stumbled to the woman and took the boy, almost roughly, from her, enfolding him in shaking arms. "Oh gods, he's all right..."

"Mikiro!" Shippo cried.

"Is he all right?" Sango asked, faintly.

He looked down at the boy in his arms, then smiled weakly as he felt the soft shifting of his body, the gentle rise and fall of his chest relieving the sudden panic in the monk's heart. He was alive, merely sleeping. "Yes..." Miroku said, finally. He looked at the young woman again, the gorgeous body and stunning beauty was the least important thing to him. The fact that she had returned his son to him was the only thing that registered in his mind. "Thank you, miss. I could never repay you for what you've returned to me..." He was surprised to find that he was nearly in tears as these words passed his lips.

She smiled, angelically, then bowed. "I am glad I fond him for you, then. A young kitsune cub was torturing him, but I managed to frighten her away before she could hurt him too severely. Unfortunately, he had fainted by then. He seems to be all right."

"HEY!" Shippo exclaimed, hotly, drawing her attention. "Kitsune do NOT torture people, especially not children! We may play tricks and borrow things, but we don't hurt!"

"But she was hurting him," the girl objected, gently.

Miroku stared. "He's HURT?" He looked down at the boy, then gasped as he spotted a large, black spot growing on the blue sleeve of the boy's robe. "He's...bleeding..." he whispered, shocked.

The girls flipped out.

"What?" Kagome exclaimed.

Kirara mewed and Sango gasped, her eyes wide. "Oh no, poor Mikiro..."

"A kitsune wouldn't hurt a little kid like him!" Shippo insisted.

Inuyasha climbed to his feet with a grunt, dusting himself off. "Get off it, it doesn't matter. As long as he's alive, who cares?" He scowled momentarily, then glanced down at the fox-boy. "Trust me, he's lucky to get off with just a cut--worse things can happen to a kid all alone in the wild."

That was very true. Carefully, he checked the wound, and was horrified to find that it was no mere cut. It was a laceration, and a deep one. It had started to clot, but that made no difference "The kitsune did this?" he asked.

The woman nodded. "Yes, but with some treatment, it won't even scar. He should be fine."

"Thank you again," he sighed, faintly, holding the unconscious child close. He turned to the others. "We should find a place to stay the night...I refuse to let this happen again."

No one argued, not even Inuyasha.

The girl suddenly raised her hand, politely drawing their attention. "Sir, if you will allow it, I would be most pleased to harbor you and your group for the night. My home is not far from here, and I have plenty of room--and a patch of medicinal herbs grows in my garden, with which you can heal your son."

Miroku glanced around at the others, but no one said a word. It was late afternoon, and they could still travel a good distance before dark, but after being told he would die within a few weeks AND almost losing his son because Inuyasha was an imbecile, he didn't want to forage on. He wanted to rest, to go to sleep and wake to find it had all been a nightmare, but no, it made too much sense to be a nightmare. Still, he didn't feel like playing hero anymore today. The rational side of him reasoned that they probably wouldn't find adequate shelter by the time they stopped later tonight anyway, but the irresponsible side of him wanted to bandage his son up and get drunk, then pass out somewhere. What more reason could a dying man need? "We'd be happy to accept your offer," he said at last.

She beamed. "All right!" she chirped, happily.

Kagome, being ever the gracious one, broke out the proper pleasantries. "What's your name, ma'am?"

The girl blinked, her smile disappearing, and paused. "My name? Didn't I tell you?"

Sango raised an eyebrow. "No, you didn't."

She blinked again, then smiled, uncertainly. "Oh, I'm sorry! How rude of me! My name is...Emily."

"Emily," Kagome echoed. "What a unique name."

"Thank you!"

Miroku somehow caught a dark vibe from the beautiful girl, and it figured. Every OTHER woman that he had been even somewhat interested in had either been unavailable, unTOUCHABLE (*cough cough* Sango *cough*) or a monster (the Mantis princess that had torn his air-rip). It was a good thing that, this time, he was uninterested, thanks to the near loss of his child.

That surprised him as it crossed his mind. He had such trouble being fatherly normally, and yet, the moment Mikiro was in danger, he leapt into the role willingly. So far, he had made both a hero and an ass out of himself quite successfully--if only he could find a way to be consistent in just ONE role!

Mikiro shifted slightly in his arms with a weak whimper and he blinked, glancing down at him. The child's face was contorted in obvious discomfort, and his little hands were fisted in the monk's robes tightly.

Miroku frowned. "Miss Emily, if we could hurry to your home--"

"Oh, of course! I apologize for being so rude." She giggled, merrily, then bowed and turned to head off into the forest nearby. "My home is not far-- please, come with me."

Miroku ignored the reluctance of the others and followed obediently, holding the small, quivering body to his chest. He frowned, privately. //I am so sorry, Mikiro,// he thought. //I swear, I won't let this happen again...I'll protect you the way I should have been all this time...//

Emily's house wasn't too far away, as she had said, but somehow, Miroku got the sneaking suspicious that it hadn't been there before. Still, it wasn't like it mattered. It was a house. That was all they needed to know at this point in time.

Conveniently, she had a lot of spare rooms, so no one had to bunk together, but Miroku was displeased to find that she had positioned his room a great deal further from Mikiro's than he would have preferred. Ah well, things happen. Despite this little setback, he spent the rest of the afternoon nurturing his sleeping offspring.

He dressed the ugly laceration on his tiny upper arm, frowning with distaste as the plethora of green, blue, black and purple bruises marring his pale skin here and there. That kitsune had had beaten him brutally, this much was apparent. It disgusted him to see such marks on a child, especially his child, and it infuriated him. If it weren't for the fact that he was amazingly virtuous, he'd go out and track the thing down.

He paused a moment to inspect the boy's wrapped right hand, lifting his own right hand to compare it. He frowned, then pushed the guilt of passing his curse aside. He had enough to feel bad about.

After relieving the boy of his soiled robes, giving them to Emily for cleaning, and rewrapping him in his kesa, he laid him in his bed and covered him up. Wearing only his navy kimono, he sat on his knees beside Mikiro, who lay sleeping, his little eyes drawn tightly closed, his knees in his chest and his arms clutching them. The monk frowned. //It isn't right,// he thought. //A child should not have to feel so unsafe that he must hold himself in his sleep to prevent being injured...//

/'The innocence of a child is so precious, but so short-lived.'/

He sighed. The innkeeper and her granddaughter had been the biggest guilt trip so far. He knew just as well as the others did that it was HIS fault Mikiro was so unhealthy and so skittish. He had already seen what the boy's life would have been like had he been a man and stayed with Kiori...Mikiro would be a lord now. He would be healthy, happy and brave, and he would have a real family, including a sister and both of his parents.

That brought a selfish thought to mind. Miroku himself would have been better for it, even! He had always wanted to be rich and powerful, and he had always lusted after beautiful women. Had he married Kiori, he would be a lord and have the most beautiful woman in existence head over heels in love with him. It was sickening. Everything would have been better had he just done the RIGHT thing for once and stood his ground instead of fleeing like the coward he was.

Recap: He would be a rich lord, not a thieving monk. He would be married to a beautiful woman that loved him, not a lecherous bachelor that hit on everything female on two feet. He would have a loving home, not having to sleep on the ground or in other people's houses. His son would be healthy, not starved and terrified. His son would love him, not fear him like he was the Bogeyman. He would have had a family, instead of living all alone. He would have been HAPPY, not MISERABLE, and he would have had a clear conscience instead of a sinful soul.

Miroku growled and smacked his head against the wooden floor, angrily. //Damn me!// he thought, marking every curse with the slamming of his head on the ground. //Damn me, damn me, damn me, damn me, DAMN ME!//

Mikiro shifted in his sleep, groaning softly, and the lecher paused in his mental damning of himself to look at the tiny child. The truth of it all hit him then. He was being so selfish by considering all HE had lost, when this little boy, only THREE YEARS OLD, had probably lived in squalor with his mother, who had worked herself to the bone to take care of him because he had no father to do it for her. He was nearly famine stricken, at least triple as smart as any other toddler, afraid of his own shadow and, now, he was all alone, because his mother had gone on a last-ditch quest to save him and left him with his deadbeat father, who was afraid of him with the pretense of immaturity. How low was he to pity himself with such a deprived human being before him?

He HAD to make up for his sins somehow. He had to. There had to be a way, he knew it. After all, Kaorushin's father had been an assassin and HE had made up for his evils by protecting others. He was a lecher, a father with a deprived illegitimate child and a compulsive liar. How could he make up for it?

Perhaps he could ask the girl's father, if he ever did manage to locate him. A man so wise as he must have an idea on how to help him, and it wasn't like he could look DOWN on him, being an ex-murderer...what was his name? Kenshin Himura?

//Funny how I've never heard that name,// he thought. //One would think an assassin would be something to talk about, especially a repentant assassin! Perhaps he was before my time. After all, his daughter is older than my son, meaning he could be a good deal older than I. In order to be an assassin, he would HAVE to be...I wonder...//

The screen door slid back and Kagome peeked in with Sango looking over her shoulder. "Mikiro!" Kagome whispered.

"Yes?"

"What was that sound?" she asked.

He sighed. "Just...me. I apologize for bothering you."

"You didn't bother us," Sango said over Kagome's head. Miroku blinked. "We heard it all the way outside and thought something had happened to you and Mikiro. We just came to make sure you were all right."

He blushed despite all attempts not to. Certainly, they were just being good friends, but it was slightly cheering nonetheless. Especially from Sango. "Thank you, we're fine," he muttered, smiling weakly.

Both girls smiled back, but the smiles quickly faded and Kagome asked a question that was obvious. "Could...we come in please?"

Miroku nodded and the two quickly stepped inside, closing the door behind themselves.

"Is he going to be all right?" Sango asked.

"Yes, he's just a bit traumatized, I'm sure. After a little rest, he should be fine." He frowned, momentarily, as he looked at she sleeping boy, all crunched in a ball and uncomfortable. "He hasn't woken yet, but I'm worried that he might be more damaged than I realize...in more ways than just physically."

Kagome frowned. "I hope your worry is just that."

"I agree," he sighed. The guilt was coming back again, and he was starting to feel suicidal again. That was the last thing he needed to feel. His son needed him to kill Naraku, and now he had limited time. He had to destroy that demon before he died, for Mikiro if not for himself. Oh, so much to do in only two weeks! He had to repent, made peace with his son, kill Naraku...

...confess to Sango...

That would come last. It would have to. He couldn't just walk up to her and say, "Hello, Sango, guess what? I've been in love with you for months now but I'm too much of a coward to say it, so because I'm going to die in two weeks, I'm coming clean and telling you now that I love you. Just so you know. Oh, and hey, could you visit my grave when I'm dead? Thanks!" NOT A SNOWBALL'S CHANCE IN HELL!

"Miroku?"

He blinked, then looked up at the huntress, who was staring at him along with Kagome. "Hmm? Yes?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you certain you're all right?"

"Yes," he lied. "I'm just thinking..."

She rolled her eyes, apparently not believing him, then scooted closer and reached past him to stroke Mikiro's feathery bangs. She sighed and stood. "Well," she said, grabbing Kagome's arm, "We'll leave you to your thinking."

//Damn me,// he thought again. He wanted to tell her to stay, but he kept his mouth shut as the two headed for the door. However, another thought came to mind. "Um...wait."

They paused. "Yes?" Sango asked. She was still mad at him for the suicide attempt, he could tell. It was going to take a while before she STOPPED being mad.

"Have...either of you ever heard of a man named Kenshin Himura?"

Sango shook her head. "No, sorry. Who is he supposed to be?"

"An assassin or something...I...heard about him from a gypsy and was wondering if either of you knew anything about him." He shrugged. "Just curious."

Kagome blinked. "Kenshin Himura? I know something about him!" Miroku looked at her and she frowned. "Kenshin Himura...he was in my history book. The legendary samurai of the Meiji Era...they called him Batosai the Manslayer. But--" She paused. "Whoa, hold on..."

Miroku frowned as she started mumbling to herself, then exchanged a glance with Sango, who shrugged, confounded. "Meiji Era? I've heard of no such era existing!" he objected.

Kagome snapped her fingers. "OH! That's why!"

"What?" he and Sango asked.

"The Meiji Era is in my past and YOUR future! It's after the warring times." The girl paused again, then shook her head. "As far as I know, Kenshin Himura shouldn't be born for another three hundred years! How could a gypsy tell you about him if he doesn't exist yet?"

Miroku blinked. Kaorushin had said her father was Kenshin Himura...but...how could she possibly exist if he didn't even exist? "Did you ever hear of a woman called Kaoru?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah. A woman by that name was usually seen around Himura-san. Her family invented the Kamiya Kashin style of swordsmanship, the kind that doesn't kill, simply protects. They used wooden swords."

"And she lived in the Meiji as well," Miroku concluded. Kagome nodded. //I wonder what sorcery could have brought a child from three hundred years in our future here...and why Fate had her path cross mine...// He shook his head. "I see."

Kagome frowned. "Looks like I'm not the only time-traveler in this era," she sighed. "How cool!"

"Indeed," Miroku agreed. Well, so much for THAT idea. Unless he wanted to go back to the gypsy camp and ask Kaorushin about her father some more, he had no way to repent. //I'll have to go back there,// he thought, grudgingly. Ah well, maybe he could try to get a clearer picture from Arundel while he was there, if the woman would allow it. If all else failed, he could try bribery. If monks were not above taking bribes, neither were gypsies.

As the girls left, he rubbed the wide sleeve of his robe against his eyes, yawning.

//Why do I suddenly feel so tired? Is it the fact that I've nearly died several times and found that I WILL die within a matter of weeks? No...I'm not tired, just weary...why does this feel so fami--uh-oh.//

~

Inuyasha sat atop the roof, his legs and arms folded, staring out across the glen the house sat in. //I smell demon,// he thought. //And I don't mean Shippo either. It isn't a kitsune, and it isn't one of Kouga's type, that much is obvious, but I have no clue what it IS...what could possibly smell like that? It's almost like...flowers...how weird...//

"Excuse me!"

He jumped as the scent suddenly got stronger. He looked down over the edge of the roof, then frowned. //Aww, it's just that girl,// he thought, angrily.

It was that Emily person. He didn't like her--she was too cheeky. It was eerie that a human could be so willing to take strangers in and still be grinning when a little boy was hurt and there were two youkai in the group.

"Yeah, wha'cha want?" he barked down at her.

She beamed up at him. "Your name is Inuyasha, isn't it?" she called.

He scowled. "Yeah, what of it?"

"I was just curious! What would you like for dinner?"

He raised an eyebrow, suspiciously. "What makes you think I eat HUMAN food?"

"I didn't even MENTION human food, I asked what you want for dinner! I can make anything!"

"Not hungry, thanks," he shouted, "Now beat it!"

"Oh, don't be so mean, Inuyasha!" she giggled. "There has to be SOMETHING you want!"

Okay, she was creepy. "NO!" he bellowed. "I'm FINE THANK YOU!"

"If you're sure--"

"TRUST ME," he spat. "PLEASE. GO. AWAY."

She nodded, pouting, then went back inside.

Inuyasha huffed and fell back onto his elbows, scoffing. "Damn girl, bugging me...feh. Kagome's enough, I don't need another one!"

"Inuyasha!"

"Oh NOW what?!" he cried. He looked down over the edge, then glanced around. Where had the voice come from?

And then, he spotted it. The bulbous pink balloon-like thing was floating toward him.

"Shippo," he sighed. "What do YOU want?"

The balloon popped and the kitsune landed on the roof next to him, scowling. That was new. Sure, he pouted and whined, but he never scowled!

Inuyasha blinked. "What's the matter? You're pissed off!"

"You're right, I am!" the fox-child shouted, surprising him. "I can't find any kitsune around here!"

"You're looking for the one that hurt Mikiro."

"The one that SUPPOSEDLY hurt him! Kitsune don't hurt children, or anyone for that matter! Only in self-defense!" Shippo folded his little arms. "I was gonna ask all youkai I could find if they saw who or what hurt him, but there aren't even any around here!"

He blinked again. "No DEMONS? NONE?"

"Not even one."

That was odd! Demons were EVERYWHERE, even if they were just the regular animal spirit demons! Why weren't there any here?

"I KNOW I smelled a kitsune before Mikiro got lost, but now I can't find that scent anywhere," Shippo huffed, grouchily. "Not even a hint!"

"That's weird," Inuyasha muttered. "I've been smelling something that I THINK may be a demon, but I can't pin it down. Maybe the kitsune was another kind of demon in another form..."

"But kitsune are the only shapeshifting youkai out there!"

"As far as you know," Inuyasha retorted. "What about Naraku? HE'S a shapeshifter."

"But HE'S made of a LOT of demons."

"True," the hanyou sighed. "Who knows. I think maybe the scent I keep catching has something to do with the lack of our kind around here, and I think it's connected to the supposed kitsune attack." He frowned, momentarily, then looked at Shippo. "What do you think DID attack him if it wasn't one of you?"

"I dunno!" He shrugged. "Besides, I don't think a kitsune could cut skin like that."

"What?"

"The cut on his arm was too clean, and we don't have claws." Shippo held out his stubby little hands for Inuyasha to inspect. Indeed, unlike the half-dog-demon, he had no claws.

"Huh," Inuyasha said, blinking. "Well, you change shape, so maybe it did that and THEN attacked him?"

"That's a waste of time," Shippo said. "If YOU were beating someone up, would you stop to sharpen your claws first and give them a chance to get away or would you just go for it?"

"Good point..." He frowned as he recalled the deep, straight gash on the boy's little arm. Not even HIS claws could cut that cleanly. "I think I'm starting to take your side on this...I wonder what did it."

"We'd better keep our eyes and noses ready."

"Yeah. We're gonna HAVE to...for Mikiro's sake." Inuyasha scowled. //When I find that thing, I'll rip out its intestines, braid them and hang it with them.//

Mikiro whined softly as he began to wake, shifting slightly. He found at once that he couldn't move, and his heart jumped into his throat. //Oh no!// he thought. At first, everything was fuzzy, and then it came back; Akaly-na, running, getting lost, crying, the scary woman, pain, and finally, blackness. Now, he hurt and he couldn't move, and everything was dark.

Wait, why was it dark? His eyes were closed!

Slowly, he pulled them open, and at first, there was nothing. Then, his sight returned, blurry, dim, confusing. He was in a small room, lying on his back, and his right arm hurt. All of him hurt, but that was worst.

Why couldn't he move? That was annoying.

Then, he realized that he wasn't wearing his clothes. Instead, he was wrapped in a heavy blue cloth, and it was familiar, though he didn't know why. It wasn't what made it so he couldn't move, though. That was something else.

He focused on the weight, then pinpointed where it was. It was...on his...stomach.

His stomach? He blinked, then looked down and jumped.

It was his father!

Mikiro blinked, then blinked again. Miroku was lying on his side on the floor beside the bedding, his head resting against the boy's belly, and he was asleep. So THAT was why he couldn't move! //Huh? Why is he sleeping on me?// he wondered.

He glanced around the room, realizing again that he was inside somewhere, clean and bundled in a huge cloth. He checked his arm, which he found to have been cleaned and wrapped with cotton strips, then spotted a stack of matching material nearby, along with an open, half-used jar of antiseptic salve. His robe was folded neatly next to these things, having been washed, and the cloth he was wrapped in, he realized, was part of his father's outfit. He discovered this upon taking a closer look at the older man, who was missing the outer piece to his ensemble.

Miroku had dressed his wound, had his robes cleaned and forfeit part of his own clothing all for him. Mikiro blinked again, staring at the sleeping grown-up whose head lay on his midsection. //I don't understand,// he thought, frowning. //Why should he do this for me...he doesn't even LIKE me...//

His father shifted slightly, and Mikiro blinked as his eyes combed over the features that he knew, someday, his own would mirror. Every time he looked at Miroku, he realized, even at his age, that when he grew up he would look just like him. That was the flaw in genetics. If the situation were different, he might have accepted this fact with grace, but it was as it was. His mother hated Miroku, and therefore he could never be allowed to become him. If he did, then she would hate him too. Somehow, he had to stop himself from growing up to be like him.

Somehow.

It was so confusing, being so young, knowing and NEEDING to know so much! On one hand, it seemed as if his father really cared for him, and he seemed to be a good person despite his bad eyes, but on the other, Mommy said he was evil, and he knew if he grew up to be like him, she would hate him. Oh, what to do?! There were times he wished he WASN'T so smart!

He shook his head, throwing the thoughts from his mind, then looked down at the sleeping man. His eyes fell upon his left hand, which lay over Mikiro's right, and he frowned as he got a good look at them. His fingers were all beat up, and the bandages that had wrapped them were gone now for some reason. The cuts were awful. Seeing the damage the man had sustained, he recalled how it had come about.

[\\The monsters were everywhere, all over, and Mikiro knew that, sooner or later, one of the three guarding adults would mess up and they'd be in peril. He leaned back against Miss Kagome's chest, frightened, as he watched Inuyasha, San-san and his father fight them. San-san was doing fine, but all she had was her V-shaped board thing to fight with.

Inuyasha would save them, he knew. He was strong and he could fight.

But why did he look so tired? He kept chopping the koketsu up with his sword, but more came, and he was starting to have trouble getting at them. What was wrong with him?

"Ack!" Shippo squealed. "Kagome, look!"

Mikiro looked up, then gasped as his eyes crossed the path of a koketsu...a really big one. It was looking right at him--not Miss Kagome or Shippo, but HIM--and it seemed to grin evilly at him as it tromped closer.

Kagome hugged him closer. "Oh no, oh no, oh no..."

He gulped and clutched his chest, grabbing his necklace from the outside of his robe. //Please, someone save us!//

Just as the thought registered in his mind, there was a cry and Miroku appeared on its back, his hands closed around a pair of huge teeth. Immediately, blood began to course from his fingers, coating the teeth where he held, and the next thing he knew, both his father and the monster were on the ground, the former beneath the latter and still holding on.

Mikiro gasped. //What is he doing?//

"Miroku?!" Kagome exclaimed. "What are you doing?!"

"Run for your life! Get on Kirara and have her take you away from here!"

He was saving them! Mikiro got a glance at the pained look on the older man's face as he fought the huge beast, his hands bleeding as he held on for dear life. He immediately sensed the sheer terror inside of him, the agony and the panic in his heart. He was scared for himself, but not in the same sense. He was being brave...

Wait, it was squishing him! He'd die if he didn't let go of it, but if he did, THEY'D die!

"But--"

"*NOW* KAGOME!" he cried, and the fear exploded. NOW he understood! Miroku wasn't afraid for himself, he was afraid for THEM!

Kagome snatched him up and put him on Kirara with Shippo, then hopped on herself and the demon-cat took off into the woods, but the last thing he saw was his father as he lost his grip on the monster and it turned on him. He was already hurt, and now he was defenseless. Why had he done such a foolish thing?\\]

Mikiro frowned. //He saved us. He saved...me...// Slowly, he pulled his right hand free of the other's left, then reached out and touched his back, remembering the daring move he had made only a night ago to save him. Twice. He had fought the koketsu barehanded (literally) and caught him when the giant snake had made him fall. Both times, he had hurt himself, sacrificing to save a boy he supposedly didn't care about. Why?

/'I know you don't like me, and I know this is scary, but please, you have to trust me.'/

//I've been mean to him...// he thought. //He's protected me and I've been mean to him...// He frowned, his brow knitting. //Mommy always told me to be nice to people, but she also said that he was a bad man...I don't know what to do...//

Suddenly, the door slid open and Mikiro looked up, then blinked as San-san peeked in, curiously, with Kirara on her shoulder. She blinked at him, then raised an eyebrow as she got a good look at the scene before her. She entered and closed the door behind her. "He's out again," she sighed.

Kirara hopped from her shoulder and bounded up, jumping onto his chest and cuddling against his neck with a purr. Mikiro smiled, then watched her as San-san herself approached and knelt next to Miroku on the floor. "O-out?" he asked. His throat was raw and talking hurt. He winced.

"Hush now," she said, sternly, looking at him. "You must rest."

He leaned back against the pillow again as San-san brushed the feathery bangs delicately from his father's face. Mikiro could sense that she had feelings like Miss Kagome had for Inuyasha, but hers were much more scrambled, like happiness mixed with anger and fear whenever even she looked at Miroku. Right now, though, the happiness was stronger.

Kirara nuzzled his chest with her nose, then hopped up onto his head and got comfortable.

"How do you feel?" San-san asked, changing the subject.

He shrugged, lifting a hand and tilting it from side to side.

"So-so?" She asked. He nodded. "Well, that's better than feeling bad, I guess."

"What..." he choked. He coughed, then tried again. "Did you mean...by out?"

She frowned, then patted his forehead. Kirara mewed. "When I said he's out," she explained, softly, "I meant he fell asleep. Do you remember the sleep-aide Hachi gave him last night?"

Last night felt like so long ago after all that had happened. It felt like weeks ago, after the consecutive demon attacks, the odd disappearance of the others in the early hours of the morning and his run-in with Akaly-na the kitsune. He nodded.

"There was a side-effect that Hachi failed to mention. Since he took so much of the aide, it makes him sleep without really meaning to."

That explained why Mikiro had found him unconscious when he was supposed to be protecting the mansion last night! He hadn't been able to guess for the life of him why he would fall asleep in such a spot. He had considered that maybe the man had fainted of fear, but there had been very little in him. Now he knew it was because of the raccoon-thing that had poisoned him.

"I notice how he's laying now," San-san continued, "And I think perhaps his resting on you was no accident, though the resting itself may have been."

"Huh?" Oww, that hurt.

"Paternal instincts."

He blinked. "Wha--"

She placed her fingers over his mouth. "Hush now, you don't need to talk. If you get confused, just touch my hand and I'll explain.

He did as instructed.

"Paternal instincts," she began, "Are the natural impulses of a father to protect his child. In a way, he's subconsciously attempting to defend you by placing himself close to you, just in case something bad happens."

He blinked, then looked down at Miroku, who still lay sleeping on his side, his head on the boy's stomach. //He's...he's still protecting me...// "Why-- "

"Because he's your father," she said simply, as if that explained everything. "He doesn't show it, but he really does want your approval and love, and I'm certain he loves you, deep inside his heart."

Mikiro jumped, but she just smiled at him. That was sort of eerie! "He--?"

She covered his mouth again. "I see you have his stubbornness down pact," she sighed. "Yes, I am certain he loves you, though he hides it well. Miroku is good at hiding things like that...it's really hard to tell what he thinks and feels sometimes."

The boy sensed her pain and frowned. Well, somebody loved SOMEBODY in that room all right, but Mikiro was pretty sure it didn't involve him.

"Would you like to get up now?" she asked. He nodded and she sighed. "Very well, I'll move him, but you had better get up quickly."

He nodded again, then watched as she knelt and hooked her arms beneath Miroku's and lifted him up off him. Kirara scampered onto the floor and Mikiro quickly moved, clinging to the blue cloth he wore, and with little visible effort on her part, San-san set him back down on the bed the way he had been and sighed. "Thank you," he wheezed.

She nodded, smiling weakly, stooped down, picked up his robe and handed it to him, then gestured him away. "You should get dressed and go let the others know you're all right now."

He turned to go, then paused as he remembered Miroku's battered hands. After making certain he had his underpants on, he shuffled back and removed the monk's robe, then handed it to San-san and put his own back on. Then, he gathered the pile of cotton wrappings and the jar of balm and set them close to her.

She blinked. "What do you want me to do with those?"

He pointed to Miroku's left hand, which was the one nearest to her.

She looked, then frowned. "Oh...I see. I'll handle it, Mikiro."

He nodded and smiled, then headed slowly from the room, Kirara on his tail.

Emily made them a nice dinner, gracing everyone with exactly what they wanted. She was really amazing! She made dumplings for Shippo, sushi for Sango, and for Mikiro, she put together a small platter of a bunch of things for him to try. She managed to make a kind of soup from Kagome's time that made her happy, and she even pleased Inuyasha with a large side of meat and a huge bowl of ramen.

However, when she attempted to feed Miroku, he couldn't eat. After awakening from his unplanned nap uncomfortable and sweating, he was nauseous. He simply sat politely at the table and fed bits and pieces of his meal to Kirara, who was perched near his feet, as he watched Inuyasha chow down. That only made him even MORE queasy. Oh no, he wouldn't be eating tonight.

Kirara hopped into his lap and got comfortable, then mewed up at him, poking her little nose from beneath its rim. The sight of the nose drew Sango's attention to him, as well as Inuyasha's, and the others' followed.

"There's a nose in your lap, Miroku!" Shippo exclaimed.

He raised an eyebrow, then glanced at Sango, who was giggling with Kagome and cooing about how cute it was that Kirara liked him suddenly. //Well, she SHOULD like me,// he thought. //I've been feeding her.//

"What's with her?" Inuyasha asked as Kirara cuddled into his thigh and attempted to nap. "She's never THAT friendly with anybody but Sango, usually."

He shrugged. "I have no idea," he lied. Well, he couldn't just say, "oh, I feel sick right now and seeing Emily's food is making it worse, so I fed it to Kirara. So sorry, but hey, at least SHE liked it." Nope, that wasn't happening.

Inuyasha brushed it off and went back to his scarfing.

Miroku sighed, then took up his chopsticks and grabbed a lump of sticky rice. Kirara immediately perked up and nearly bit off the end of the utensils the moment it came within range. //Either she's hungry or Emily is a very accomplished chef,// he thought. He reached to his left to the smaller table and snatched a dumpling from Shippo, who reacted like a wild animal.

"HEY YOU GIVE THAT BACK!" the kitsune roared.

He rolled his eyes. "Charity is a virtue, one you should acquire," he said, flatly, ripping it in half and bringing it to his mouth. He paused, then, and a wave of sickness hit him. //Ohhh, I can't do it...// Sighing, he offered it to Kirara. The little neko began munching away, excitedly.

"And stealing is a sin, one you should stop repeating," Shippo retorted, angrily. Mikiro patted his back, supportively, but said nothing.

"I'm not stealing, merely borrowing. Besides, Kirara is hungry and she needs to eat just as much as YOU do. If not more, oh exalted SELFISH one."

"Borrowing entails returning."

"Take that up with Kirara. If you'd like to get it back, you're welcome to try."

Kirara was chowing down, and the moment Shippo so much as looked at her, she pushed it behind her with a little growl. He frowned and went back to his meal without further argument.

Inuyasha smirked. "Serves ya right, brat."

"Nobody asked you, Inuyasha," he muttered.

"WHAT did you SAY?!"

Miroku took up his staff in his freshly bandaged left hand and bopped the hanyou with the upper half, then smacked Shippo with the base. He cleared his throat and replaced it at his side. "I believe that's enough fighting for one meal."

Kagome giggled. "You gotta admit, that's an effective way of shutting them up!"

"Definitely," Sango agreed.

Emily, who had disappeared to take care of something, returned with a smile on her face. "Is everyone enjoying their supper?"

Miroku nodded dutifully with the others. He managed to conceal Kirara's feasting from her eyes with a quick change of position, dropping the youkai and her snack further below the table in his lap and out of sight.

"I'm glad!" She beamed at them all. "If there is anything I can do for you, please let me know!"

She was quite the gracious hostess, but there was something very odd about her. Kind and innocent as she seemed, she gave off a strange vibration that hinted at something more than met the eye.

Despite his qualms, Miroku kept his suspicion to himself.

Everyone finished and Emily cleared the tables with amazing speed, and in time, they were all settled down together to relax. The boys fell to playing their clapping game near the fire-pit, slowly, because Mikiro was still injured. Kagome and Sango sat together not far from the two children, watching, giggling and whispering to each other. Inuyasha settled in a dark corner alone and folded his arms, thinking silently with his eyes closed.

Miroku himself watched the others, depressed, with Kirara napping in his lap. His mind was abuzz with the things he had to get done before the fateful day that he had been awaiting his whole life. He had to atone for the evils he had done to Mikiro and Kiori, confess his love to Sango and attempt to find and/or kill Naraku to spare his son the curse of the air- rip and the misery of living the way he had for the last nineteen years. Now that he had an agenda of what to do, he could start getting ready, and the first step was going back to that gypsy camp and either asking Arundel for more specifics on his death or Kaorushin about her father and his own sins. The girl knew a lot for her age, so maybe she could advise him.

In time, the others grew tired, almost simultaneously, and Emily led them all to their rooms. Miroku went without a fight, despite his disliking of being so far from Mikiro, but as Emily left him, he decided to stay dressed. He would wait until the others were settled in to sleep and Emily was somewhere else, and then go to the camp. He laid down on his bedding, folding his arms beneath his head, then sighed and waited.

The silence was thick for a long time, but as soon as he was sure everything was silent, he got up and, leaving his staff behind to avoid disturbing the others with the noise, crept to the door and peeked out.

Everything was dark, and a candle illuminated not one of the rooms' doors. The hall was empty. Good.

Being careful to test every step for a creak, Miroku tiptoed into the hall, but paused as he passed the nearest room to his, Sango's. He put an ear to the door, but heard nothing. Perhaps she was already asleep! As he progressed he found that every room was silent. Finally, when he reached Inuyasha's, however, he couldn't resist. He peeked inside.

The half-demon was snoring away on his bedding, and he hadn't even so much as removed the tetsusaiga from his back or removed his kimono! He was out cold!

//Funny, he was so full of energy earlier...// Miroku backtracked and peeked into Kagome's room. She was sleeping too, fully dressed and not even under her blankets. //How odd!//

The monk checked every room and was shocked to find that everyone was out cold, Sango, Shippo, Mikiro, even Kirara!

//I MUST have missed something when I fell asleep earlier...// he thought. He nodded to himself. //That must be it.// He quickly hurried on his way.

"Halt, stranger!" a thin, pale man in colorful garb called to him. His hair was black and his eyes were brown, but there was a different structure to his face that was not Japanese in any fashion. He was a gypsy, surely.

//Now where have I heard that before?// Miroku thought, wryly. "Sir, I must speak with your Lady Arundel and her apprentice, it is of pressing importance."

"No one sees the mistress!" he barked. "She sees whom she pleases, no one sees her!"

"You don't UNDERSTAND, I have to speak to Arundel, or at least Kaorushin!" Miroku insisted. "I need but ten minutes! Just ten and you'll never see me again!"

"Nay! Away, stranger!"

The monk huffed. "You're being difficult, and it's bad for your karma to be as such in the face of a sentinel of the gods."

"You're a priest?"

"So to speak."

"Of what religion?"

Miroku raised an eyebrow. "Buddhist."

"Away, then. We are Wiccan here."

//Damn! It figures. I had better come up with something fast.// He caught the man by his arm as something came to him. He was a good liar, and an even better preacher. The two talents had carried him through most of his life. (It took someone who knew the words of the gods well to impersonate a priest and con people into giving charity that was undue. It was a talent he would soon disown, but for now, it was useful.) "You are not from this place," he accused, "And our gods do not smile upon foreigners, especially rude ones that deny their priests simple things such as a short audience with a member of their band. You may believe in other powers, but that does not mean that the gods of our land will spare you if you dishonor them. Our gods rule here, no matter what you may think. Deny me if you will, and be sure to tell your lady that you did when misfortune falls upon you."

The young man blinked, very apparently cowed, then swallowed hard and tried to take up his strong front again. It failed. "Y-you cannot scare us! Our gods protects us!"

"Do they now?" Miroku asked, darkly. "If you have so much faith, then prove it. Otherwise, you may stand aside."

"I-I-I cannot let you see her," the man stuttered. "Please leave."

The monk frowned, though inside he was quite amused. He was a good actor too. He had to be, to pretend to bless a home so they would shelter him. Now he would get to do something new; he would get to pretend to damn a camp. Thankfully, he was good at bluffing too. "Then you are hereby cursed."

"Cursed? You can't curse gypsies, WE curse YOU!"

"Perhaps in YOUR religion." He smirked as the man blinked a few times.

He quickly looked around, then gulped and sighed. "Very well, priest. You...you may see our Lady Arundel...but tell no one I said you could!"

"Very well," Miroku agreed, stepping past him. "Thank you." With that said, he marched into the sea of tents, seeking out the black one that Arundel had met him in.

It was easy to find in the dark...it was the only one that could barely be seen. It was like a shadow darker than the shadows, looming menacingly over all in its path. Somehow, he knew she was here. Without a thought, he entered the tent.

There was Arundel, the dark form of a woman unseen by all, as far as he could tell, and standing nearby was little Kaorushin, her violet eyes glowing in an unearthly manner by the light of the glowing blue sphere in her lady's hands. The moment he entered, the girl smiled, but it was a sad smile, not like the beaming grin she had blinded him with earlier this day. Something was wrong...and she knew it.

"You knew I was coming," he said. Both woman and girl nodded. "Will you help me?"

"Perhaps, though you deserve nothing I can offer," Arundel said, darkly. Kaorushin sighed, frowning.

"I must know how to atone for my sins before my final day arrives," he explained. "I was hoping that one of you could tell me what I must do."

"That is for you to decide."

"But I don't know what to do!" he objected.

Arundel sighed. "Fool. Only you can decide your own actions. The full moon is nigh, but thirteen days from now. An unlucky number, that is. On the thirteenth day, you will die. Within that time, you must atone. How you accomplish this is your decision, but know this: if your sins are not atoned for, the wounds you have inflicted unhealed, you will be damned, and you will leave behind a legacy bathed in blood."

/'I hate you, and may you burn in Hell for what you've done!'/

Miroku flinched. His nightmare. "Mikiro..." he whispered.

"Your son fears you now, but that fear will grow and transform into hate as he ages," Arundel hissed. "If that fear and anger is not quelled by you, no one will be able to stop him. Imagine, monk, a murderous man with powers physical, mental and spiritual unrivaled by any other mortal in existence. And it will be because of you that he exists. In order to save your soul and the soul of your son, you must make amends with his mother, and with him. That should be your final task."

Miroku frowned, deeply. "But...I-I don't know how to--"

"The answers lie within you, monk, but you must seek them out!" Arundel hissed. "No answer is heaven sent, all are from within. You know deep inside how you can succeed before you die, but only you can find it. No one else."

He scowled, exasperated. "Well...well, could you at LEAST tell me where I am to GO to discover it?"

She sighed. "You will not find it, it will find you, but I will tell you this. Be sharp, for the victim will find you, and through her you will start your path to destruction."

"And if I don't find her?"

"You will, for at heart you are not as evil as you seem."

He sighed, rolling his eyes. "Thank you. Is that all."

"Yes, until we meet again."

He turned to leave, but her voice caught him.

"Beware the two-faced oddity, Miroku. One breathes, the other eats. One is blind, the other sees. Beyond this, there is no weakness."

"Riddles. Spectacular." He left the tent and headed back the way he had come. No one bothered him.

Sakura crept into the hallway and peeked into the room where she had set the girl, Kagome, alone to sleep. Now all she had to do was steal the jewel shard and turn it over to her master and she'd be done with them. She had drugged their food to make them sleep soundly so she wouldn't have to worry about waking them. It was perfect. Now, all she had to do was steal the jewel fragment and kidnap her new mate. Easy!

She knelt next to the bed and reached carefully for Kagome's necklace, beaming as she watched the almost fully formed jewel glitter in the moonlight. //Just a few...more...inches...//

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. CREEEEEK...

//WHAT?! Someone's awake! WHO could be AWAKE?!//

The screen door opened and she looked up, then blinked as the monk, Miroku, stared at her. What in the name of evil was HE doing up?!

"Miss Emily?" he asked, surprised. "What are you doing?!"

"I..." she blinked again, noticing that he wasn't even drowsy- looking...something was wrong... "I was just..."

The necklace. She remembered, she'd stolen the necklace from the boy.

Quickly, she reached into her kimono and pulled it out. "Oh, I found this outside and I remembered that Miss Kagome had a necklace that looked like this little pink stone. I was wondering if it was hers..."

Miroku raised an eyebrow. "No, that isn't hers..."

"Oh!" She quickly stood up and dusted herself off, then hurried from the room and closed the door, trying desperately not to throttle the cute mortal man. "I'm sorry, I was just trying to help. Why are you awake?"

"I'm...not tired..."

//How is THAT? How is he NOT--// and then, it dawned on her as she remembered seeing the little cat youkai fall into his lap. He hadn't eaten, he'd fed it to her! Had he suspected that it was drugged? Was that why he was here, now? Did he know she was a demon? "Oh...well, I could make you some tea if you'd like." She HAD to get him to sleep!

"Thank you, but no. I believe I will go to bed now, if you don't mind..."

"Oh! Not a problem. I apologize for bothering you. Good night."

He didn't move. He stared at her, and she stared back, and finally, she realized that he wasn't moving until she did. Damn!

"Good night," she repeated. Grudgingly, she left the hallway. That damn monk was going to be a problem, she just knew it! She shoved the necklace she stole from the kid back in her pocket, then stormed into her room. //I'll just have to take it in the morning...DAMN!//

To Be Continued

Xandra: Okay, now I mean it, I REALLY have to get back to my other stuff. I hope you enjoyed this one, because I won't be writing on it for a while. Sorry!

As a sidenote with no real standing, I just recently saw the episode of Inuyasha with our favorite hanyou's mother in it, as well as a flashback in which he was a li'l kid. GOD he was so CUUUUTE! (So was Miroku as a kid...[What happened? Oh yeah, they grew up and became hot.])

Review, and I hope you enjoyed.