InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Identity Crisis ❯ Chapter Four ( Chapter 4 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: ladygriddlebone 
Sango and Miroku discover the source of the trouble.
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Drama | Type: Divergence | Uploaded On: 11.05.2008 | Updated On: 03.15.2010 | Pages: 2 | Words: 3.6K | Visits: 719 | Status: Completed
Sango and Miroku discover the source of the trouble.
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Drama | Type: Divergence | Uploaded On: 11.05.2008 | Updated On: 03.15.2010 | Pages: 2 | Words: 3.6K | Visits: 719 | Status: Completed
Disclaimer: Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi.
Chapter Four
Kirara growled a warning. Miroku had barely registered the cat demon's agitation before he found himself suddenly hauled bodily away from Sango, Kirara's teeth clamped firmly into the fabric of his robes. He hadn't even heard Kirara follow him; he'd been too focused on Sango.
Struggling to clear his mind, very much aware that he needed to concentrate, he sensed demonic aura on her breath. Did the miasma have something to do with it? He hoped that the answer was that simple.
Moving quickly while he was momentarily free of Sango's grasp, he withdrew one of the sacred sutras that he always carried and, kneeling beside her, pressed it to her forehead. The paper began to smolder immediately, but did not burst into flames and seemed unable to fully purify whatever was affecting the demon slayer.
-----
Sango felt vaguely as if she were on fire.
She took in a deep, gasping breath and lurched upright, shoving Miroku aside as she gagged on the smoky miasma that surrounded them. Her stomach heaved and she vomited up what was left of her dinner. When she finished, she wobbled precariously and fell over practically on top of him, gasping for breath; he had been crouching beside her and stumbled under her weight, but managed not to fall.
She was terrified at the sudden sensation of awareness, having no real idea of how she had come to be in this place. Each lungful of the strange miasma only increased her panic. Her eyes went wide at the sudden realization of her nudity and she pulled away from Miroku, attempting to cover herself as best she could. She searched frantically for some sort of explanation and found none.
Lacking an easy explanation, she got angry. Fury fueled by fear and anxiety bubbled up within her, and she turned that fierce, irrational anger toward the nearest target, which happened to be Miroku.
"What are you doing?" Her voice was shrill and raw; she sounded terrified even to herself. She wanted to slap him for some transgression, any transgression, but her limbs felt rubbery and she couldn't quite manage to move that much. Not that she wanted him to know that.
Miroku did not rile at her foul temper. It almost seemed that he had expected it. "I saw you leave the village with the headman," he explained. His eyes were soft; her anger was already losing its edge in the face of his obvious concern. "We… heard you scream and came after you. Kagome and Inuyasha are outside, taking care of the guards."
"I - I see."
"Here." He shifted away from her, removing the kesa from his robes and offering it to her so that she could cover herself. She squinted suspiciously. Could this really be the Miroku she knew, passing up a chance to see her unclothed? After all, it was unlike him not to have grabbed her or made some sort of perverted comment yet, even when he was offering her a kindness. Deciding not to tempt fate, she accepted the offering, wrapping the thick fabric around herself and securing it as best she could. It was not ideal, but it would have to do until they could get back to the inn for her clothes.
He extended a hand; she accepted and allowed him to help her to her feet. She was unsteady and feared for a moment that she might be sick again. She took a deep breath, mindful of the miasma, though it seemed to have thinned some after Miroku applied to the ofuda to her forehead.
Sheepishly, she peeled the paper from her skin, only to have the effects return full force. Her whole body felt hot, feverish, sensitized to an incredible degree. The feel of Miroku's kesa against her breasts was nearly unbearable. She wondered briefly how Miroku and Kirara were able to stand it.
Her mind was reeling, torn too many different ways. She wanted badly for Miroku to assuage the need that was burning between her legs and at the same time she was terrified of what would happen if she let him near her. Her body fairly ached with wanting him... but for their first time together to be here, like this? She couldn't stand the thought.
That damn demon. She had never felt such an intense physical attraction to anyone before. She had felt moments of longing, even of lust, but this was different - forced, almost painful. As if something in her head was screaming GIVE IN over and over again at a deafening pitch.
She wanted to hunt down the thing that had done this to her, and was fearful because it had so easily rendered her helpless. She wanted the fear and shame to go away, even knowing that she could not accept help; she had to redeem herself. She was a demon slayer. Nothing less would do.
"Sango." Miroku's voice and a warm, steady hand at her shoulder brought her back to reality. "Let's get you out of here."
She didn't think her face could get any redder. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out.
She was spared any further embarrassment when a resounding crash echoed through the cavern. The demon returning, perhaps? She struggled with her fuzzy memory and found that she could not remember what, exactly, the demon was. She knew it had to be a demon, because there was no way that the thing that had grabbed her could possibly be human. But everything had gone black when she had hit the bottom of the tunnel, and she had not woken up until Miroku arrived.
From a dark corner of the room, a woman approached. At least it looked like a woman on the outside. It had to be the demon that was responsible for all this, and yet – a woman?
"The villagers never mentioned anything like you when they told us about a demonic presence," Miroku murmured. He sounded almost… appreciative. Sango shook with rage; how could he look at the creature like that, knowing it was behind all this?
The demon's lips curled into a smile. "Oh I'm sure they would have, if they weren't all merely my puppets."
Sango narrowed her eyes. This was too much to bear. It was bad enough to be captured by some strange demon, but even worse to have Miroku see her naked, and then have to fight without her armor or her weapons. She slipped into a defensive stance, wishing that she had even just one of her weapons. But she could no longer simply stand and watch. She had to do something, whether or not she had weapons. "Demon! I'll kill you!"
The demon chuckled. "Abide, slayer." At the demon's command, there was suddenly pain; if she had felt feverish before, she felt as if her very blood was ablaze now. She was forcefully slammed against the wall by something she could not see. The air knocked from her lungs, Sango gasped for breath.
"You're controlling her too, then." Miroku sounded enviably calm. Sango gritted her teeth, unable to do more than that.
"She fought me," the demon woman grinned even wider, "But it was easy enough to subdue her again. Humans are such weak-willed creatures…"
"Why her?" Miroku frowned; the demon laughed. Sango fairly bristled with anger as she fought against the demon's control. Its will compelled her to remain still, but she would be damned before she would give up without a fight.
"Oh, it's not her I wanted. It's you, monk. Your spiritual power will make a good meal and good practice for taking that other holy one that travels with you." That grin was getting steadily wider and wider. "I just need an opening, monk. Just a small lapse in your concentration. You almost gave me that already."
Miroku said nothing. Sango frowned, struggling to remember. Indeed, up until the moment Miroku had used the ofuda on her, she could not recall very much at all of what had happened that evening. For some reason, she had the distinct impression that he had tried to kiss her. But there were only blurry memories and vague sensations to back that up.
Taking advantage of his pause to continue, the demon added, "The other one, that priestess is more powerful, but much easier to distract." It smiled, lips curling with relish.
"You're using that to distract people, so you can control them?" Sango managed, comprehension dawning. No wonder Inuyasha and Kagome had been all over each other lately.
If she was surprised that Sango had managed to break her hold enough to speak, the demon woman did not show it; instead, she laughed again. "There are few things that distract humans better than 'that,' slayer. And in my many years, I believe I've perfected the art of dist –"
She was interrupted by the impact from Miroku's staff; the force of the blow smashed half her face in and left the air sizzling with energy.
"Bastard monk!" The words were snarled, lacking the crystalline beauty of the demon's previous speech. For just a moment in the aftermath of Miroku's attack, the demon's concentration - and her appearance - wavered. Underneath the beautiful woman was a wizened old creature, so covered with wrinkles that it almost appeared to be made up entirely of vines; it was small wonder that this demon was so good at hiding itself and using trickery to get what it wanted.
Sango's legs gave way beneath her as Miroku spun and landed another hit with his staff. It felt as if she were a puppet whose strings had just been cut. She lolled on the floor, barely able to move, for what seemed like an eternity, gradually becoming aware that some of the oppressiveness of the demon's command for stillness was beginning to lift.
She was fairly certain that Miroku's attacks were distracting the demon enough that it had lost its hold on her, but she forced herself to remain still, waiting for a chance to attack it, watching as best as she could.
No opportunities were forthcoming, and without her armor, weapons, or arsenal of poisons, she was not sure how best to approach this thing. She frowned. It was beyond frustrating to be without even the most basic of her tools.
She watched as the demon howled in anger and lost its human shape for good. It twisted and changed, from a beautiful woman into a tortured looking thing made up of a writhing mass of vines. Where there had once been a face there was now only a grotesque collection of knots in the wood. Ropelike vines lashed out from what had been fingertips moments before.
Miroku leapt out of the way, blocking a few of the vines with his staff, searching for an opening that would enable him to strike. There was none. The demon simply had too many appendages, and the close quarters meant that he could not use the wind tunnel without potentially bringing the entire cave down around them.
Sango frowned. She wanted to help but knew it would be foolhardy to attack this thing with no armor or weapons to hand. She half expected the full force of its will to come crashing down upon her again any second. It did not.
The sound of the demon fruitlessly attacking Miroku assured her that it was still at least partially distracted. It assumed she was weak and still fully under its control. A sudden thud followed by a grunt from Miroku and the rush of surging vines drew her attention.
Sango's heart stopped as she watched Miroku go down under the force of at least half a dozen of the vines, the staff skittering from his grip as he hit the ground hard. She had to do something now or the monk could very well die.
The staff was her only choice. It had slid in her direction when Miroku lost his grip on it, and the demon seemed to still be focusing on the monk. It seemed to have decided that he was the bigger threat. Maybe he was. Sango had no holy powers with which to imbue the weapon, but she did have the strength of years of training. It would have to be enough.
In the instant she rose to run for the staff, the demon's head shot up, its hollow eyes staring straight at her. She could feel the command to remain still and fought it. Her limbs went leaden despite her efforts at resistance and she stumbled, knowing she would fall. The demon would kill Miroku, and then come after her. She was certain, and felt the crushing weight of failure settle more surely on her shoulders.
None of them had counted on Kirara.
The firecat gave no howl or roar, no sound of warning. She simply flew out of the darkness and clamped her jaws hard into the demon's wooden flesh.
The command lifted.
Sango stumbled, fell, and sprawled gracelessly on the ground. Her hands, flung wide as she fell, had done nothing to cushion the landing, but she took a deep breath and clenched her fist around the staff.
Her heart pounded in her chest.
Kirara struggled to maintain a grip on the demon as surely as it struggled to dislodge her. It shook and writhed, trying to throw the firecat loose as her teeth chipped away at the woody vines that made up its body.
Sango rolled into a crouch, eying the demon for any sign of a weakness. She knew that she would have only a few moments in which to strike, and each blow had to count. She thought she would have time for one, two at most.
She prayed silently for Kirara to keep the demon occupied for a few more seconds, noting out of the corner of one eye that Miroku had managed to free one arm. Then something else caught her eye. Roots. Slipping and slithering along the ground, from the thing's ankles and heading off into the darkness. If it truly was a plant demon, as it appeared to be, severing the roots should kill it.
The demon howled and shook Kirara free. The acrid smell of smoke filled the air, and Sango saw bits of ofuda paper clinging to the demon, burning. Miroku must have managed to free himself enough to reach his sacred scrolls, but Sango did not chance a look. Her attention was focused on the demon.
Sango seized her chance while the demon was distracted. She leapt to her feet and attacked.
The staff was an unfamiliar weapon; she hoped that strength alone would be enough.
The sharpened metal staff sliced through the wooden lifelines with ease, and she swung it around one more time to smash it into the demon's body with all the force she could muster. The blow landed with the satisfying crunch of old, rotten wood, and the demon exploded outward.
Bits of paper and ash drifted down around them almost like snow. Miroku must have thrown more ofuda while she was busy with her own attack. She would have smiled in gratitude if she had not been preoccupied with the humiliation the demon had forced her to endure. Rage and shame still burned in her blood just as surely as the demon's strange miasma had set her body afire with need. She was beginning to wonder if the unpleasant sensations and emotions would ever fade. Killing it certainly had done little to improve her mood. Her moment of revenge seemed empty, hollow…
"We should go back," Miroku said, the soft sound of his voice drawing her back to the present.
She shook her head, gesturing toward the gnarled roots on the ground. "We have to make sure we got all of it. It was a plant demon. If we leave any part of the root system alive, it'll just regenerate."
They followed the roots into the darkness for a short distance. Sango was conscious that Miroku walked close beside her on one side, and every so often Kirara would butt up against her from the other. She was not sure whether to feel loved that they both wanted to protect her, or slighted because they thought she could not defend herself. Ruefully, she realized that she had already failed to defend herself once this night. It was probably for the best to have two watchful pairs of eyes guarding her back.
Trying to focus on the task at hand rather than her failures, Sango scanned the darkness as she walked, looking for signs of the demon's true body. She was certain they would find it somewhere in this underground lair, but did not see it until she had almost tripped over it. A stump, the living demon plant long since cut away, save for a small protruding branch that bore a few limp leaves. It was too dark to make out more detail, but this had to be it.
Miroku peered curiously over her shoulder; Kirara tentatively sniffed toward the stump, recognizing it for what it was.
"We'll need to find someone to purify this," Sango explained, gesturing to the stump. "I'll bet these roots go on for miles under the ground, spreading out the demonic aura until it's practically unnoticeable." It was a dirty trick, but it certainly explained why no one in their group had sensed the demon's presence until it was too late.
Miroku took a deep, steadying breath and withdrew what had to be near the last of his ofuda. He paused for a long moment, deep in concentration, and whispered a prayer under his breath. When he placed the paper against the root, it began to slowly decay. In the silence that followed, they could hear a distant rumble spread through the earth as the roots disappeared and the ground resettled.
It felt almost as if a weight had lifted, to know the thing was dead and gone. And yet… Sango still felt angry, unfulfilled. And saddened, too, that she had made such a simple mistake and ended up putting everyone else at risk.
"Sango," Miroku said, interrupting her thoughts, "It's dead?"
She nodded, half wondering if he could see the movement in the dark.
"Then we should see if we can find a way out of here."
Sango nodded again, scanning the darkness for any sign of an exit. The tunnel only extended a short distance further into the dark before stopping at a dead end. After a short scuffle, Miroku managed to free one of the torches from its sconce; it let off a foul-smelling smoke, nothing at all like the rosy-pink miasma that had emanated from it earlier.
A quick investigation revealed no other obvious tunnels or exits. She was beginning to fear that they would have to go out the same way Miroku got in, but was reluctant to face Inuyasha and Kagome just yet.
"Is that a door?" Miroku asked suddenly, pointing into the gloom overhead.
"Maybe… It looks like there used to be a ladder here," Sango replied. "Kirara, take us up for a look."
She climbed onto the firecat's back, Miroku seated gingerly behind her, and they rose several feet into the air. Sure, enough, they could make out the outline of a trap door in the ceiling.
A careful, but forceful, push opened the door and sent wet, half-rotted tatami mats scattering, and they emerged into the night. As soon as Miroku and Sango had hauled themselves up through the opening, Kirara squeezed through after them. As the humans looked around, the firecat made herself at home in Sango's arms, cuddling up against the slayer to offer what comfort she could.
"This was… the headman's house," Sango murmured. She recognized the building, but it looked nothing like it had appeared earlier in the day. This was a ruin, not a well-appointed mansion. Which meant…
"There never was a wealthy headman in this village," Miroku said, frowning. "It was just a puppet all along, once the demon got control of the villagers." Sango thought she might be sick; they had been deceived so easily, from the very beginning. Even taking her into the forest had been a mere ruse to throw her friends off the trail…
She shivered suddenly, despite the warmth of Kirara in her arms.
"Come on, let's get back to the inn," Miroku continued. He sounded as weary as she felt. She could only nod her head weakly in response.
Chapter Four
Kirara growled a warning. Miroku had barely registered the cat demon's agitation before he found himself suddenly hauled bodily away from Sango, Kirara's teeth clamped firmly into the fabric of his robes. He hadn't even heard Kirara follow him; he'd been too focused on Sango.
Struggling to clear his mind, very much aware that he needed to concentrate, he sensed demonic aura on her breath. Did the miasma have something to do with it? He hoped that the answer was that simple.
Moving quickly while he was momentarily free of Sango's grasp, he withdrew one of the sacred sutras that he always carried and, kneeling beside her, pressed it to her forehead. The paper began to smolder immediately, but did not burst into flames and seemed unable to fully purify whatever was affecting the demon slayer.
-----
Sango felt vaguely as if she were on fire.
She took in a deep, gasping breath and lurched upright, shoving Miroku aside as she gagged on the smoky miasma that surrounded them. Her stomach heaved and she vomited up what was left of her dinner. When she finished, she wobbled precariously and fell over practically on top of him, gasping for breath; he had been crouching beside her and stumbled under her weight, but managed not to fall.
She was terrified at the sudden sensation of awareness, having no real idea of how she had come to be in this place. Each lungful of the strange miasma only increased her panic. Her eyes went wide at the sudden realization of her nudity and she pulled away from Miroku, attempting to cover herself as best she could. She searched frantically for some sort of explanation and found none.
Lacking an easy explanation, she got angry. Fury fueled by fear and anxiety bubbled up within her, and she turned that fierce, irrational anger toward the nearest target, which happened to be Miroku.
"What are you doing?" Her voice was shrill and raw; she sounded terrified even to herself. She wanted to slap him for some transgression, any transgression, but her limbs felt rubbery and she couldn't quite manage to move that much. Not that she wanted him to know that.
Miroku did not rile at her foul temper. It almost seemed that he had expected it. "I saw you leave the village with the headman," he explained. His eyes were soft; her anger was already losing its edge in the face of his obvious concern. "We… heard you scream and came after you. Kagome and Inuyasha are outside, taking care of the guards."
"I - I see."
"Here." He shifted away from her, removing the kesa from his robes and offering it to her so that she could cover herself. She squinted suspiciously. Could this really be the Miroku she knew, passing up a chance to see her unclothed? After all, it was unlike him not to have grabbed her or made some sort of perverted comment yet, even when he was offering her a kindness. Deciding not to tempt fate, she accepted the offering, wrapping the thick fabric around herself and securing it as best she could. It was not ideal, but it would have to do until they could get back to the inn for her clothes.
He extended a hand; she accepted and allowed him to help her to her feet. She was unsteady and feared for a moment that she might be sick again. She took a deep breath, mindful of the miasma, though it seemed to have thinned some after Miroku applied to the ofuda to her forehead.
Sheepishly, she peeled the paper from her skin, only to have the effects return full force. Her whole body felt hot, feverish, sensitized to an incredible degree. The feel of Miroku's kesa against her breasts was nearly unbearable. She wondered briefly how Miroku and Kirara were able to stand it.
Her mind was reeling, torn too many different ways. She wanted badly for Miroku to assuage the need that was burning between her legs and at the same time she was terrified of what would happen if she let him near her. Her body fairly ached with wanting him... but for their first time together to be here, like this? She couldn't stand the thought.
That damn demon. She had never felt such an intense physical attraction to anyone before. She had felt moments of longing, even of lust, but this was different - forced, almost painful. As if something in her head was screaming GIVE IN over and over again at a deafening pitch.
She wanted to hunt down the thing that had done this to her, and was fearful because it had so easily rendered her helpless. She wanted the fear and shame to go away, even knowing that she could not accept help; she had to redeem herself. She was a demon slayer. Nothing less would do.
"Sango." Miroku's voice and a warm, steady hand at her shoulder brought her back to reality. "Let's get you out of here."
She didn't think her face could get any redder. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out.
She was spared any further embarrassment when a resounding crash echoed through the cavern. The demon returning, perhaps? She struggled with her fuzzy memory and found that she could not remember what, exactly, the demon was. She knew it had to be a demon, because there was no way that the thing that had grabbed her could possibly be human. But everything had gone black when she had hit the bottom of the tunnel, and she had not woken up until Miroku arrived.
From a dark corner of the room, a woman approached. At least it looked like a woman on the outside. It had to be the demon that was responsible for all this, and yet – a woman?
"The villagers never mentioned anything like you when they told us about a demonic presence," Miroku murmured. He sounded almost… appreciative. Sango shook with rage; how could he look at the creature like that, knowing it was behind all this?
The demon's lips curled into a smile. "Oh I'm sure they would have, if they weren't all merely my puppets."
Sango narrowed her eyes. This was too much to bear. It was bad enough to be captured by some strange demon, but even worse to have Miroku see her naked, and then have to fight without her armor or her weapons. She slipped into a defensive stance, wishing that she had even just one of her weapons. But she could no longer simply stand and watch. She had to do something, whether or not she had weapons. "Demon! I'll kill you!"
The demon chuckled. "Abide, slayer." At the demon's command, there was suddenly pain; if she had felt feverish before, she felt as if her very blood was ablaze now. She was forcefully slammed against the wall by something she could not see. The air knocked from her lungs, Sango gasped for breath.
"You're controlling her too, then." Miroku sounded enviably calm. Sango gritted her teeth, unable to do more than that.
"She fought me," the demon woman grinned even wider, "But it was easy enough to subdue her again. Humans are such weak-willed creatures…"
"Why her?" Miroku frowned; the demon laughed. Sango fairly bristled with anger as she fought against the demon's control. Its will compelled her to remain still, but she would be damned before she would give up without a fight.
"Oh, it's not her I wanted. It's you, monk. Your spiritual power will make a good meal and good practice for taking that other holy one that travels with you." That grin was getting steadily wider and wider. "I just need an opening, monk. Just a small lapse in your concentration. You almost gave me that already."
Miroku said nothing. Sango frowned, struggling to remember. Indeed, up until the moment Miroku had used the ofuda on her, she could not recall very much at all of what had happened that evening. For some reason, she had the distinct impression that he had tried to kiss her. But there were only blurry memories and vague sensations to back that up.
Taking advantage of his pause to continue, the demon added, "The other one, that priestess is more powerful, but much easier to distract." It smiled, lips curling with relish.
"You're using that to distract people, so you can control them?" Sango managed, comprehension dawning. No wonder Inuyasha and Kagome had been all over each other lately.
If she was surprised that Sango had managed to break her hold enough to speak, the demon woman did not show it; instead, she laughed again. "There are few things that distract humans better than 'that,' slayer. And in my many years, I believe I've perfected the art of dist –"
She was interrupted by the impact from Miroku's staff; the force of the blow smashed half her face in and left the air sizzling with energy.
"Bastard monk!" The words were snarled, lacking the crystalline beauty of the demon's previous speech. For just a moment in the aftermath of Miroku's attack, the demon's concentration - and her appearance - wavered. Underneath the beautiful woman was a wizened old creature, so covered with wrinkles that it almost appeared to be made up entirely of vines; it was small wonder that this demon was so good at hiding itself and using trickery to get what it wanted.
Sango's legs gave way beneath her as Miroku spun and landed another hit with his staff. It felt as if she were a puppet whose strings had just been cut. She lolled on the floor, barely able to move, for what seemed like an eternity, gradually becoming aware that some of the oppressiveness of the demon's command for stillness was beginning to lift.
She was fairly certain that Miroku's attacks were distracting the demon enough that it had lost its hold on her, but she forced herself to remain still, waiting for a chance to attack it, watching as best as she could.
No opportunities were forthcoming, and without her armor, weapons, or arsenal of poisons, she was not sure how best to approach this thing. She frowned. It was beyond frustrating to be without even the most basic of her tools.
She watched as the demon howled in anger and lost its human shape for good. It twisted and changed, from a beautiful woman into a tortured looking thing made up of a writhing mass of vines. Where there had once been a face there was now only a grotesque collection of knots in the wood. Ropelike vines lashed out from what had been fingertips moments before.
Miroku leapt out of the way, blocking a few of the vines with his staff, searching for an opening that would enable him to strike. There was none. The demon simply had too many appendages, and the close quarters meant that he could not use the wind tunnel without potentially bringing the entire cave down around them.
Sango frowned. She wanted to help but knew it would be foolhardy to attack this thing with no armor or weapons to hand. She half expected the full force of its will to come crashing down upon her again any second. It did not.
The sound of the demon fruitlessly attacking Miroku assured her that it was still at least partially distracted. It assumed she was weak and still fully under its control. A sudden thud followed by a grunt from Miroku and the rush of surging vines drew her attention.
Sango's heart stopped as she watched Miroku go down under the force of at least half a dozen of the vines, the staff skittering from his grip as he hit the ground hard. She had to do something now or the monk could very well die.
The staff was her only choice. It had slid in her direction when Miroku lost his grip on it, and the demon seemed to still be focusing on the monk. It seemed to have decided that he was the bigger threat. Maybe he was. Sango had no holy powers with which to imbue the weapon, but she did have the strength of years of training. It would have to be enough.
In the instant she rose to run for the staff, the demon's head shot up, its hollow eyes staring straight at her. She could feel the command to remain still and fought it. Her limbs went leaden despite her efforts at resistance and she stumbled, knowing she would fall. The demon would kill Miroku, and then come after her. She was certain, and felt the crushing weight of failure settle more surely on her shoulders.
None of them had counted on Kirara.
The firecat gave no howl or roar, no sound of warning. She simply flew out of the darkness and clamped her jaws hard into the demon's wooden flesh.
The command lifted.
Sango stumbled, fell, and sprawled gracelessly on the ground. Her hands, flung wide as she fell, had done nothing to cushion the landing, but she took a deep breath and clenched her fist around the staff.
Her heart pounded in her chest.
Kirara struggled to maintain a grip on the demon as surely as it struggled to dislodge her. It shook and writhed, trying to throw the firecat loose as her teeth chipped away at the woody vines that made up its body.
Sango rolled into a crouch, eying the demon for any sign of a weakness. She knew that she would have only a few moments in which to strike, and each blow had to count. She thought she would have time for one, two at most.
She prayed silently for Kirara to keep the demon occupied for a few more seconds, noting out of the corner of one eye that Miroku had managed to free one arm. Then something else caught her eye. Roots. Slipping and slithering along the ground, from the thing's ankles and heading off into the darkness. If it truly was a plant demon, as it appeared to be, severing the roots should kill it.
The demon howled and shook Kirara free. The acrid smell of smoke filled the air, and Sango saw bits of ofuda paper clinging to the demon, burning. Miroku must have managed to free himself enough to reach his sacred scrolls, but Sango did not chance a look. Her attention was focused on the demon.
Sango seized her chance while the demon was distracted. She leapt to her feet and attacked.
The staff was an unfamiliar weapon; she hoped that strength alone would be enough.
The sharpened metal staff sliced through the wooden lifelines with ease, and she swung it around one more time to smash it into the demon's body with all the force she could muster. The blow landed with the satisfying crunch of old, rotten wood, and the demon exploded outward.
Bits of paper and ash drifted down around them almost like snow. Miroku must have thrown more ofuda while she was busy with her own attack. She would have smiled in gratitude if she had not been preoccupied with the humiliation the demon had forced her to endure. Rage and shame still burned in her blood just as surely as the demon's strange miasma had set her body afire with need. She was beginning to wonder if the unpleasant sensations and emotions would ever fade. Killing it certainly had done little to improve her mood. Her moment of revenge seemed empty, hollow…
"We should go back," Miroku said, the soft sound of his voice drawing her back to the present.
She shook her head, gesturing toward the gnarled roots on the ground. "We have to make sure we got all of it. It was a plant demon. If we leave any part of the root system alive, it'll just regenerate."
They followed the roots into the darkness for a short distance. Sango was conscious that Miroku walked close beside her on one side, and every so often Kirara would butt up against her from the other. She was not sure whether to feel loved that they both wanted to protect her, or slighted because they thought she could not defend herself. Ruefully, she realized that she had already failed to defend herself once this night. It was probably for the best to have two watchful pairs of eyes guarding her back.
Trying to focus on the task at hand rather than her failures, Sango scanned the darkness as she walked, looking for signs of the demon's true body. She was certain they would find it somewhere in this underground lair, but did not see it until she had almost tripped over it. A stump, the living demon plant long since cut away, save for a small protruding branch that bore a few limp leaves. It was too dark to make out more detail, but this had to be it.
Miroku peered curiously over her shoulder; Kirara tentatively sniffed toward the stump, recognizing it for what it was.
"We'll need to find someone to purify this," Sango explained, gesturing to the stump. "I'll bet these roots go on for miles under the ground, spreading out the demonic aura until it's practically unnoticeable." It was a dirty trick, but it certainly explained why no one in their group had sensed the demon's presence until it was too late.
Miroku took a deep, steadying breath and withdrew what had to be near the last of his ofuda. He paused for a long moment, deep in concentration, and whispered a prayer under his breath. When he placed the paper against the root, it began to slowly decay. In the silence that followed, they could hear a distant rumble spread through the earth as the roots disappeared and the ground resettled.
It felt almost as if a weight had lifted, to know the thing was dead and gone. And yet… Sango still felt angry, unfulfilled. And saddened, too, that she had made such a simple mistake and ended up putting everyone else at risk.
"Sango," Miroku said, interrupting her thoughts, "It's dead?"
She nodded, half wondering if he could see the movement in the dark.
"Then we should see if we can find a way out of here."
Sango nodded again, scanning the darkness for any sign of an exit. The tunnel only extended a short distance further into the dark before stopping at a dead end. After a short scuffle, Miroku managed to free one of the torches from its sconce; it let off a foul-smelling smoke, nothing at all like the rosy-pink miasma that had emanated from it earlier.
A quick investigation revealed no other obvious tunnels or exits. She was beginning to fear that they would have to go out the same way Miroku got in, but was reluctant to face Inuyasha and Kagome just yet.
"Is that a door?" Miroku asked suddenly, pointing into the gloom overhead.
"Maybe… It looks like there used to be a ladder here," Sango replied. "Kirara, take us up for a look."
She climbed onto the firecat's back, Miroku seated gingerly behind her, and they rose several feet into the air. Sure, enough, they could make out the outline of a trap door in the ceiling.
A careful, but forceful, push opened the door and sent wet, half-rotted tatami mats scattering, and they emerged into the night. As soon as Miroku and Sango had hauled themselves up through the opening, Kirara squeezed through after them. As the humans looked around, the firecat made herself at home in Sango's arms, cuddling up against the slayer to offer what comfort she could.
"This was… the headman's house," Sango murmured. She recognized the building, but it looked nothing like it had appeared earlier in the day. This was a ruin, not a well-appointed mansion. Which meant…
"There never was a wealthy headman in this village," Miroku said, frowning. "It was just a puppet all along, once the demon got control of the villagers." Sango thought she might be sick; they had been deceived so easily, from the very beginning. Even taking her into the forest had been a mere ruse to throw her friends off the trail…
She shivered suddenly, despite the warmth of Kirara in her arms.
"Come on, let's get back to the inn," Miroku continued. He sounded as weary as she felt. She could only nod her head weakly in response.