(A/N Discretion advised for violence, adult and political themes)
‘He’s staring at you again.’
Biting the inside of my cheek I cast my gaze to the fire, refusing to meet the eyes of the man across camp. My insides twisted and knotted under those pressing eyes, knowing we had again fallen into another uncomfortable stalemate. The pregnant silence between us was as stifling as the midsummer heat, licking at our nerves and waiting poised to spark yet another argument.
Passion was a strange matter. It could ignite both fear and rage. Love and hate. Lust and disgust. And it had been doing quite a lot of that to us wretched souls in the past few weeks. Passion was maddening. It left its possessors confused and conflicted. To love someone so completely you resent them for a careless taxing on emotion. And from the heat of that anger rises a primal ferocity that can only be assuaged with aggression – a need to be in the right. To possess. To punish.
Or, at least, this was the case with us.
In our four years of marriage never had we been like this. It was strange, and difficult. And in a way, more exciting than I would ever care to admit. Each day had it’s own genre, it’s own rules by which we engaged one another. Some days we were oppressively silent. Some we were professional. On the rare occasion we would discuss emotion, though it was always in moderate doses and followed with longer gaps of silence.
But on some days – well, most days, we were passionate. The silence is what did it, I think. It darted pensively between us until it was kinetically charged. And then it would strike like electricity, igniting arguments that strengthened bonds by searing them.
We fought. Gods, did we fight. But it wasn’t the type of fighting one would assume of husband and wife. No. There was something altogether sinister about it. It was the type of fighting where harsh words are swallowed by even harsher kisses. Where sheets become battlegrounds. And where nights do not end until one party has conceded the entirety of their body and mind to the other. This was not fighting. It was war – war that could be declared at the slightest glance of contempt.
War that I knew would surface if I brought my eyes to meet his.
Mind wrapped around the all too vivid images these memories produced, I forced back a shiver and rubbed at my wrist – mild rope burn hidden discretely under black tekkou. A testament of his latest victory.
Sometimes it felt as if we’d gone insane. There was no more love making, not since the incident that caused all this. It was instead replaced with a new kind of love, mistaken for hatred in its ferocity. The brutal act of reclaiming, repossessing one another. Where bruising bites can plead, ‘Why did you leave me?’ to the raking nails’, ‘So I can protect you.’
It was an unspoken language – an outlet for passion and its many fearsome forms.
I wasn’t certain if those words would ever transcend into speech, but they certainly would not tonight.
‘Don’t look at him. Just ignore him.’
I was tired. It was not a night for war. It’d been a long trek over the mountain today, and my legs felt heavy from carrying Hiraikotsu over the painfully vertical slopes. I had also, of course, overdone it again – growling and pushing against the rocks my husband climbed with ease; refusing to fall out of stride with him so that I would not have to look up and find him waiting, a bored or haughty expression about him.
As much as I loathe to admit it … having Miroku around, whether opponent or lover, or both, worked wonders on my work ethic. My strength returned with each day’s challenges. And I was fast becoming comfortable in my own skin again. Most of the softer, prenatal curves had slimmed to the taut muscle they previously were. It was a good start, but I still had miles to go rekindling their endurance. Intensive training for the next month would hopefully see to that.
Lost to my planning, I barely recognized Miroku shift his head westward and stand. The shouting, however, got my attention.
“Extinguish your flame!”
“You’re in danger!”
“Put it out! Put it out!”
By the time I managed to stand three village men came running into our camp. The one in the middle was carrying a bucket of water, and without a glance to either one of us dumped its contents over the fire with a steamy hiss. The smoke plumed around us angrily, and I coughed and closed my eyes from its sting.
“What is the meaning of this?” I heard Miroku asks.
“You must not be from around here,” One remarked, out of breath. Another piped up after him.
“He’s a monk! And look, the armor on this woman. Could it really be a taijiya?”
The three of them talked over themselves in excited whispers for a moment, before all fell to their hands and knees and bowed deeply.
“Please come with us to our village on the shore. We beg you. All will be explained once we get there, but we must make haste! The creatures could be here any moment!”
Miroku and I exchanged furrowed glances.
“Creatures?”
-
An old woman sat before us in the small hut, two men seated on either side of her as she stayed her shaky hands to neatly pour five cups of tea. We could hear the tide roll listlessly along the shore outside, alarmingly the only sound despite the village’s fair size. Its sandy paths were empty, its household fires kept to a dim ember. Something about its ghostlike atmosphere reminded me all too well of Kanazashi.
We were careful to avoid major roads and cities in case the Sakurestu were indeed following us. This led us through a chain of lowly villages in the mountains, until we inevitably found ourselves here. I couldn’t help but wonder if the chaotic beasts had picked up on this pattern, and were waiting poised in this village for us.
When the old woman finally settled the kettle over the firepit again the two men responded, picking up the ceramic cups and handing them delicately to houshi-sama and I.
“I do hope the men didn’t give you much trouble,” she began, the dim fire catching the severity of her troubled expression.
“As a monk and demon slayer you are no doubt accustomed to danger, but our mountains and shores hold creatures by the likes of which you have never seen. Your camp could have lured them in like a beckon, and outnumbered you would not have survived the night.”
“You have our gratitude for your hospitality,” Miroku remarked, then paused to take the cup to his lips. I followed suit at his approval, scenting it briefly and detecting nothing but tealeaves.
When he placed the cup down again his expression was stern, “Tell me. What are these creatures the village men spoke of?”
The three glanced among themselves, and with a nod from the elder one of the men excused himself from the hut. He came back a short while later with a cumbersome object wrapped in a straw pelt. The closer he came the more I noticed the foul stench of decay – like fish that had been left to rot.
With a hand to his nose the villager peeled back the straw, revealing the grotesque sight beneath. It was the head of a demon. Its flesh was purple and boated, its riddled veins giving the impression that it’d been turned inside out. Its large saucer eyes were bloodshot and bulging out of their sockets. And its jaw protruded with a fierce underbite, teeth the size of tusks crisscrossing its lips. By the time I registered its sickening appearance the villager held it up by its ragged black hair, letting it dangle and spin limply.
“Have you ever come across a creature like this in your travels?”
“Never,” Miroku replied, and I shook my head. His brows knit together in confusion as he examined the head,
“But it’s strange. Typically there’s a traceable imprint of jyaki left in demonic corpses. But I don’t sense anything in this one. It’s as if it’s not even a demon.”
The old woman bowed her head, “That is because it is the head of one of our village women.”
My jaw hung in disbelief, “You mean to tell me that thing is human?”
“Was human,” the elder corrected sorrowfully. “It came into our village one night in the tattered remains of her kimono. And she is not alone in suffering this fate. Many of our young women have gone into the mountains and come back as these creatures. Some even make it back home to their families, but transform somewhere among the hours. Neither human nor demon, we call them the deformed ones.”
“Do they have any cognitive reasoning?” the monk asked.
“We’ve tried getting them to remember their loved ones. It always ends in bloodshed. They are no longer the humans they once were. They are beastly and stupid, and have in the past attacked our village on a nightly basis. That is why we must keep our fires low, and our voices quiet. Lest we draw them into our homes.”
“How could this happen?” I mused out loud, watching as the villager wrapped the head again and disappeared.
The old woman was quiet a moment, her wrinkled eyes turned to the fire,
“We think, perhaps … they ate mermaid flesh.”
“Mermaid flesh?” I blinked. Weren’t they just folklore? In all my years of training the taijiya had never brought up such an outlandish subject.
“I’ve heard the legends,” Miroku began. “That those who eat the flesh of a mermaid gain immortality. I’ve never heard that it could turn humans into monsters.”
The old woman scoffed, “People inland are lost in their fantasies. They tell tales of the mermaids’ beauty and generosity, when in reality they are vicious and repulsive creatures.”
Miroku’s eyes closed with a heavy sigh, looking disappointed. I glared at him from my peripheral and let the woman finish.
“It is true that mermaid flesh can grant immortality, but it is also a deadly toxin. Only one in a million are said to be immune to it. Most cough up blood and die instantly. Others gain immortality, but at a cost – their bodies and minds. They become the deformed ones. The only way to kill one indefinitely is to sever its head.”
“I see,” Miroku nodded, meeting her gaze. “If you will allow our services, Sango and I will dispose of the creatures and offer funerary rites to those lost.”
“That is kind of you, monk. We are a meager village and don’t have much to pay you, but I am certain the families will reward you with whatever they can manage. I ask, though, one more thing of you …”
She struggled for a moment, grasping at the words she wanted to use, and uttered them in shaky sorrow,
“My granddaughter … she came down from the mountains one afternoon, spitting blood, and fell ill. On her deathbed she told me she had sprung her ankle picking roots. An old medicine woman suddenly appeared to her and made her take a remedy she swore to cure all pain and injury. It was a dried piece of fish meat … She died that night.”
Pausing to wipe moisture from the corner of her eye, the elder continued with a hint of aggression, “I’m certain of it. There is a demon medicine merchant up in the mountain feeding our young women mermaid flesh. We’ve led expeditions in search of her, but she will not appear to the men. Only young women … Madam exorcist, I beg of you. Find this demon and slay it.”
Miroku made a barely discernable grunt of disapproval at my side. I nodded in spite of it,
“Consider it done.”
-*-
By the fourth time he beat the sand from his pillow I growled, cocking my head toward him,
“Do you mind?”
He peered at me from across the room, eyes dark and challenging. If he beat that pillow one more time I’d get up and beat him with it. Instead he sat on his haunches, still giving me that obediently-disobedient frown while peeling the kesa and koromo from his shoulders. Dressed in only his leggings he turned from me to fold his robes, revealing the pink and red claw marks that crisscrossed his muscular back and shoulders. One would think he was attacked by a demon. Certainly not a ferocious taijiya.
When he finally lay back over his futon he sighed with exaggerated delight, puffing out his chest to the night air and stretching bare arms overhead. I ignored him and glared at the ceiling.
We’d been escorted to this hut after our talk with the headwoman. It belonged to a couple that had been decimated some weeks ago by the deformed ones. That, more than anything, should have been enough to thwart whatever Miroku had been scheming all afternoon. It did not stop him from playing mind games, however.
“Those robes were heavy. I feel much better without them.”
I growled again, ruffing at the bangs that clung stubbornly to my forehead. The hut was stifling. No breeze passed through. Not even waves outside. It was on nights like this that I wept for my yukata, washed and stored and miles away at home. In the summer heat my suit constricted me like a sticky second skin. Despite being stripped of its armored plates it was still oppressively confining.
Though even as uncomfortable as it was, it was still a better alternative than sleeping in a dead woman’s juban.
“Muuuch better,” I heard him purr.
‘That’s it.’
Gritting my teeth I fussed with the knots at my collar, popping them and wiggling the hot, black material down to bunch at my hips. With nothing but the sarashi binding my upper body I sighed, feeling the air cool against my slick skin. Knowing his ploy had worked Miroku chuckled confidently.
Damn monk. In the most infuriating ways, he always seemed to trick me into getting what he wanted. Even if it was for my best interests.
“Is there a problem?” I barked, annoyed.
“Not at all. I was simply picturing you fighting demons like that.”
Wrinkling my nose at him I turned onto my side, facing the outer wall.
Silence reigned.
“So. You’re not coming over here then?”
“And why would I do that?”
“I just figured with all those venomous glares you’ve been giving me all day you wanted revenge. You are a bit of a sore loser after all,” he boasted matter-of-factly.
‘Sore loser!? Oh, you smug--’
Scowling at the wall I curbed my anger, “I shouldn’t have to remind you that we have a full day’s work tomorrow, monk. We need all the sleep we can get.”
“Surely it wouldn’t take up too much time,” he chided, sounding almost assured of his next victory.
The assertive persuasion in me was revolted by the idea. My mind already raced with its own retaliatory ideas; of straddling him with a domineering growl and showing him that I would not forgive his transgressions so easily. No one could ensnare a predator and expect it not to bite.
‘You’d just love that, wouldn’t you, monk?’
Instead I sneered, quelling the impulsive rage his libido seemed to feed off of.
“I’m tired. Why don’t you go and find a mermaid to alleviate your perverted itches.”
When there was no playful rebuttal I knew I had struck a nerve. Again the silence lay heavy around us, until after what seemed like forever his voice broke through it, gruff and deliberate,
“I don’t want you fighting that demon alone.”
“Tough,” I snapped, deadpan.
I heard him sigh, exasperated, and turn to face his own wall. From the quiet hitches in his breath I knew he wanted to say more – knew he’d wanted to for a while now. But something kept those matters private to him, perhaps fear of my own response.
I thought that perhaps, at these moments, he had to remind himself that I was not playing games; that training did not consist of a few pushups and punches to inanimate trees. No. Taijiya trained on the field, under the pressure.
If I wanted to be strong on my own, that was how I would train – if he liked it or not.
Our conversation died from there. Whether him too bothered or I too stubborn, we fell asleep listening for the other’s goodnight.
-*-
We shared a hearty, if not silent breakfast together before making our way into the forest. Today we were professional. There was no room for passion where demons were involved. It was essential to keep a level head, to dim the embers of the heart, in order to stay safe.
It was this I credited the efficiency of our work. We had already cleared several of the shore and mountain caves, disposing of deformed ones and offering prayer. Despite being large and muscular creatures, they were fairly dumb and solitary. We were able to execute the same battle plan with nearly every one, a combination of diversion and a sharp, quick blade. We both agreed it was the most humane death we could offer the victimized women.
The village elder suspected there were around thirty, given the missing persons record. With twenty-one taken care of and the sun leaning toward the western ocean, it was becoming apparent that we needed to change tactics.
“This isn’t working,” I sighed, stepping away from the monk. “The medicine merchant will never show with you here in the mountains. Go back. Tell the villagers to make as much noise as possible to lure in the remaining deformed ones. You can take care of the rest.”
His mouth formed an irritated grimace, and my brows sunk with the challenge.
“Go back,” I repeated, broadening my shoulders. It served the wrong purpose, I realized, when his eyes marveled fondly at my pronounced chest.
Huffing I spun in aggravation, climbing one of the slopes across our path. Though he hadn’t verbally conceded I could hear the shakujo jingle as he descended toward the beach.
It’d been a good half hour of searching since then with no such luck. I could hear the din of pots clanking from the distant village, jeering voices and the occasional song of remorse. Miroku certainly seemed to be having more success than I was.
Trudging along the beaten path I exhaled in frustration, eyes darting for clues. They soon fell upon one, quite literally, as my foot snagged on a broken root. Remembering what the village elder had said about her granddaughter I came to a halt. After a brief internal debate I relented, bringing a hand to the hilt of my sword and pulling it free.
‘If this demon only appears to women in need, then so be it.’
Biting my lip I guided the clean portion of the blade over my left forearm, hesitating a moment before making a hasty cut. I hissed and placed the offending weapon back in its sheath, staring at the wound. It was deliberately shallow and far enough away from the limb’s main arteries. It was a fool’s wound, causing little damage but quite the mess. It was enough, I hoped, to draw out the demon.
“Well this is new,” chimed a rickety voice from behind me.
Eyes widened I spun around, finding an old woman perched neatly on one of the neighboring rocks. Strapped across her back was a wooden medicine cabinet, nearly dwarfing her in its size. The white band across her forehead and traveling attire said human, but everything about her appearance and mannerisms cried demon. It would seem she made no attempt to hide it in this case.
“Usually I have to wait for some poor girl to trip. It’s quite nice to have a summons,” she smiled knowingly under rimmed eyes, seeming very much the wise elder she masqueraded as.
“Hello, demon slayer. Have you come for my remedies or my head?”
“I think you know the answer to that.”
My hand swept to the wakizashi, thumb kicking the hilt of the blade. She didn’t look like much, but looks could be deceiving. I took one step forward, wary of the way she remained seated. Another step. Before I could brave another one I faltered at her sudden cackle, a squawky and haggard sort of noise.
“You didn’t think I would let my guard down that easily, did you?”
‘What?’
Before I could even muster a responds the trees above me rattled and moaned. Like falling leaves deformed ones descended to the earth below, landing with tremendous thuds and surrounding me.
The first gargling beast to approach met my blade, shaking with exertion as it tore through bulging neck muscles. It had barely enough time to cut through before another creature lunged for me, meeting an equal fate.
But then two more. And another grabbing Hiraikotsu before I could wrench it off my back to swing. Its leather strap cut from my shoulder. The wakizashi knocked from my grip.
I was being overpowered!
Suddenly a large clawed hand made its presence known on my neck, hoisting me off my feet. I struggled in the strangling grip, digging my nails into its hand vainly. I could think of nothing else, the threat of my throat collapsing all too real.The others swarmed in, jaws snapping like hungry dogs.
I barely managed to gutter a curse while kicking one square in the face, hissing as the reprimand was a tighter clamp on my throat. My vision darted in and out, the sunlight blinding in its intensity.
This was it. I was going to be torn apart by these inhuman beast, all because of a foolish need to prove myself to him.
‘Houshi-sama--’
I wanted to scream his name, if not for help than admiration. It seemed only appropriate to think of him before Death.
“Wait.” A rickety voice called from the abyss.
She controlled these beasts?
The growling dissipated from my peripheral, a bony old finger directing the creature to set me down. It did so in quiet obedience, and two more caught me by either arm before I hit the ground.
My head fell limp and heavy, choking down air and feeling sickening pops as the inner workings of my throat sought to reposition themselves. A hand tugged at my chin, lifting it up and letting my blurry eyes adjust to the old woman standing in front of me. She cocked my face this side and that, examining.
“I sense it,” she concluded, a smile spreading on her crackled lips. Her hand swept under my bangs, caressing the side of my face in a sinister sort of empathy. I recoiled, baring my teeth with a growl.
“My dear. I can sense your life force, and it is half empty.” Despite the words her eyes seemed to light up with mirth, drunk on her own ambitions.
“You will die long before you reach my age. Unless you let me help you.”
“I don’t want your help,” I hissed, lunging for her. The creatures held me tighter, claws digging into the muscle of my arms. Turning my head and a bitten lip up at the pain I ignored it.
She clucked her tongue with feigned concern, rummaging in the satchel strung across her shoulder.
“Surely that isn’t so. Everyone fears Death. Even demons. Even taijiya.” She paused to lean in, inhaling my scent with a faint chuckle, “And, I’m sure, even the half-life monk down there.”
Her hand finally slipped free of the pouch, turning upward to peel back layers of thin paper. Finally unwrapped, her long pointed nails withdrew a small, dried piece of glowing fish meat. I’d have to be a fool not to know what that was.
“I believe we can strike a bargain. Eat this flesh and it will grant you immortality. Help me in doing this, and I will use my powers to restore the monk’s life force.”
The absurdity of it. But she’d mentioned his safety, and my mind was already weighing lives against each other. Could I really buy him more time this way?
“What do you mean?” I demanded.
“Humans eat mermaid flesh to gain immortality. Vice versa, if a mermaid tastes the flesh of a human it replenishes their longevity. However, the flesh must be from a human who has ingested that of a mermaid and survived. The mermaid will then take on that human’s youthful appearance for another half century until it is time to feed again.”
My mind strained to retain the information, staring in disbelief at the elderly woman, “So … you’re a mermaid?”
“Didn’t know we could walk on dry land, did you my dear?” she cackled. “Yes, I am a mermaid. And my time in this body is running out. I’ve been feeding mermaid flesh to the beautiful young women of the village, hoping one would be immune to the toxins. All have died or transformed, but I have a good feeling about you. You seem strong enough to push through it.”
Hatred burned deep within me, shining venomously through my eyes, “You mean to tell me you tricked those girls, knowing what would happen, and would not even clean up the mess you’ve made? And now you expect me to take some poison to help you, that could either kill me or change me into a monster? And at the point of sacrificing myself, I am to assume you will selflessly cure the monk?”
The elder’s lips tugged into an impatient frown, “A mere bite is all I need. No sacrifice necessary. And as I see it, by not accepting you are the one acting selfishly.”
“And why is that?” I challenged, riled.
The mermaid’s eyes were unforgiving, voice a deadpan matter-of-fact,
“Because I am not the only one playing with innocent lives here.”
The pink tint of anger on my cheeks drained to a deathly pale – watching as her boney finger pointed accusatorially toward my abdomen. My eyes dilated.
‘No … ’
“You owe it to the life inside you to survive. Take the mermaid flesh, or be ripped apart. Either way I get what I want from this.”
“Y-you’re lying,” I hissed. It was soon replaced with a grunt of pain.
Her hand shoved my head back violently, gripping tight at bangs while the other tried to force open my jaw. I could feel the dried flesh press against my teeth.
“Enough already. Open your mouth!”
‘Enough is right!’
Using my captors as leverage I kicked my feet out from under me, swinging forward and plunging them into the little woman’s chest. The force propelled her backwards and onto the ground, mermaid flesh dropped from her grasp. I didn’t give her time to recover. Rotating my wrist I popped the ties of my arm blade, jerking it free and embedding it into the forearm of the deformed one. While it wasn’t enough to tear through, it did frighten it enough to release my arm. That’s all I needed.
My hand whipped to a discrete pouch at my sash. I heaved down a breath of air before striking a poison pellet to the ground, plumes of greenish blue vapor engulfing the clearing within seconds.
The creatures sputtered and choked around me, fleeing from the toxins.
I fell to my knees and groped the earth impatiently, quickly finding my wakizashi amongst the blades of grass. I used it to sever the hand holding my captive arm, leaving me little time to roll away from the howling creature’s other set of claws. My back bumped a large prone surface and I fumbled for its handle, dragging Hiraikotsu with me to a stand.
My ears caught onto a separate footstep from the deformed ones, a small hobble that fled from the area. I brought Hiraikotsu to my waist and flung it, watching it disperse the poison around it as it barreled toward its target.
Crashing through several small trees it soon lost momentum, making it easy for the old woman to duck under in her haste. I was quick to catch the weapon, hot on her trail as we wove the tangled slopes down the mountain.
“Face me, you coward!” I roared, eyes locked on the woman like prey. There was no way I would let her get away. Not after all the women she’d tricked to their deaths. Not after trying to trick me.
The forest soon gave way to the shore below, and I stumbled over the rocky ledge as my target began to disrobe. She dove for the waves, evading my detection under floating white robes. Regardless I charged for the peer, hearing a masculine grunt of exertion in my peripheral as the shakujo finished off its last enemy.
“Miroku, the boat!” I ordered, eyes caught on a glimmer of silver in the waves.
He got to it before I could, unraveling the ropes and paddling out. I hopped on before it could get out of reach, leaning over the bow and scanning the water expectantly. The further we rowed the calmer it became, and the more abysmal the chances of spotting the mermaid.
I cursed under my breath, standing and untying myself from Hiraikotsu.
“What are you doing?” the monk asked, eyeing me warily. He didn’t get an answer as I leapt from my perch, diving into the water.
“Damn it, Sango!” He scrambled to the edge of the boat, watching my figure disappear into the deep coral bed.
My eyes burned against the salt water but I kept them open, swimming upright and scanning a full 360. My wakizashi was gripped at the ready.
‘Where are you …’
Colorful fish, curious of their foreign visitor, circled around me to investigate. I paid them no mind, until they suddenly stopped and darted for the shelter of the corals. I barely had time to turn around. A wide set of saber-toothed jaws was all I could see. My hands grabbed either side of them before they could reach my flesh, propelling me backwards and sending my breath out in frantic bubbles. Arms shaking from the weight, I growled and watched my blade sink to the depths.
Curling my feet up I pushed away from her, surprised when she did not follow. Instead she hovered in place, giving me my first good look of the horrible creature. The fairytales were wrong. Straw-like grey hair floated in the current, rooted to a corpse of a woman with the same protruding jaws as the deformed ones. Her bared torso was wrinkled and emaciated, tail a thick and sickly yellow.
“You wretched woman,” the mermaid gargled out in the same rickety voice. “How dare you drive me back to the sea. I’ll never have the strength to walk land again! Thanks to you!”
Snapping her jaws she torpedoed toward me again.
I swam to the side and evaded, grunting when her tail swatted me forcefully in the back. She tried to coil around my body like this, but as her neck craned in my direction I struck back. My exposed arm blade curved around her neck, a thin line of crimson spilling into the water. Before I could pull it all the way through her writhing tail struck me again, this time in the chest, and almost sent the air from my lungs.
I needed to end this quickly.
Distracted in her pain the mermaid did not notice me slip away and into the reef below, searching for my weapon. It didn’t take me long to realize I was searching in the wrong place, or that she was already descending to search me out.
Hidden in a hollow, all was eerily silent but the current in my ears. Tiny bubbles floated from the corners of my lips, lungs already weak from strangulation. If I wasn’t careful I feared they might collapse soon. Unnerved by this fact, my eyes searched for something, anything, to use as a weapon. They came across a particularly jagged stem of coral.
Reaching out I grasped it in my hand, trying to pluck it free at soundlessly as possible. Finally it broke with a very distinctive pop. It echoed in the stillness…
Without warning the woman’s head shot into my hollow, screeching and snapping those powerful fangs. I wouldn’t let it frighten me, charging forward and burying the coral blade into her eye. She hollered and wriggled to get away, but I would not have it. Wrapping my arm around her neck I dragged her down, drawing back my hand and bestowing an equal fate to her other eye.
I could hear her jaws crunch the water powerfully over my shoulder. I wouldn’t be able to get out of the hollow without facing those teeth, or having her escape. It was now or never. I held her tight, boots digging into the coral walls around me to make sure she could not uproot us. I then brought my arm blade to the back of her neck, pulling down as hard as I could and attempting to saw through the bone.
My lungs burned with the effort to restrain her, to destroy my enemy with a weapon intended for self-defense only. As exhausting as the task was, it seemed to be working. The creature thrashed and snarled, deafening me with its shrieks. And when it found it couldn’t pull away it charged forward, smashing its head into the cavern wall. Brought with it my back hit the rocks, air escaping me in one startled puff. But I held on, choking miserably, and cut in a desperate frenzy…
When a large stream of bubbles floated to the surface Miroku’d had enough. Standing his hands went to the knot of his kesa, intending to salvage it before diving in after his reckless wife. She’d been down there too long. Something must have happened. About to cast the cloth over his shoulder, his hands stilled as a dark silhouette began to immerge from the depths.
A grey head of hair surfaced, followed by a set of bloodied eyes and large jaws. The monk snarled, about to demand when happened when the creature suddenly lunged out of the water at him! He roared at it threateningly, shakujo at the ready. But then he stopped the strike in mid air, watching the lifeless severed head bounce off the boat’s floor and roll to his feet. He lowered the staff, seeing a pair of black and red clothed hands grip the boat’s ledge.
Coughing up the remaining water in my chest I hoisted myself up, lying prone on the bench to collect my breathing.
“The villagers deserve to burn that,” I managed, spitting out sea salt rather unladylike.
Miroku said nothing, but through our connection I could feel anger and concern churn within him. Honestly, if he was that worried than he should have jumped in right after me.
Pushing the bangs out of my eyes I shifted to sit correctly on the bench, finally glancing up at his face. His eyes. The eyes of our children.
‘You owe it to the life inside you to survive.’
It hit me again like the recoil on Hiraikotsu.
“What?” he asked, and I realized I was staring at him slack jawed.
It wasn’t fair.
It wasn’t fair!
My cheeks puffed out angrily, a sudden indescribable frustration boiling up inside of me. He noticed, but before he could react my leg struck out under him – kicking him off balance and over the edge of the boat. He resurfaced after a moment of flailing, baffled.
“What was that for?” he sputtered.
“Find my sword. I’m tired.”
Gripping both ores, I started rowing back to shore without so much as a backwards glance.
It was his turn to look on slack jawed.
“Wait – you can’t just-- Sango! Sango!”
The next night …
‘He’s staring at you again.’
But this time I let him. He had every right to. His eyes were full of disapproval as I tossed the remainder of my supper into the fire. I hadn’t had much of an appetite. In exchange for the skewered fish I withdrew a small jar from my belongings, taking from it one of the pre-portioned packets within. I opened it delicately, creasing the paper wrapper so that its contents would slip easily into my mouth.
Wild carrot seeds. I obtained them from a merchant at the shore village before departing. The purchase did not go without notice from the monk. It was a subject of secrecy, meant to be sold and administered discretely. Frowned upon by many.
Taken regularly, the seeds were a potent contraceptive.
Uncapping my canteen I took a sig, downing the bitter dry seeds with a solid gulp.
It turned out that I was not with child. Blood on the night of our mission spoke truth to that. This discovery I allotted to my poor appetite – caught in an upsetting muddle of relief and disappointment.
My mind would not accept an alternative. The mermaid must have misjudged. She must have scented Miroku on me, inside of me, and came to her own conclusions.
I would not, could not, accept blame; accept the notion that life too small to defend itself, too small to even detect, could not compete with the rigorous demands of my profession; that there was life at morning that did not see the night. My heart would take to bleeding. Denial was the only thing keeping it at bay.
The mermaid misjudged.
Wiping the corner of my mouth I refastened the jar, tucking it away from the monk’s prying eyes. I could almost see his rigid muscles beneath the koromo, tight with the effort to stay silent. Guilt hit my heart like lead.
How hard it must be, for the man whose sole ambition in life was many children.
“I made a choice,” I said, hesitating. “I told you there would be no more children until Kuroshiro’s death. And I’ll remind you that you made a choice as well. To stay my husband regardless … No amount of haphazard coupling is going to make me change my mind.” Regardless of the sentiment I blushed.
It hadn’t escaped my mind, with how fiercely and frequently we had been going at it, that I was playing right into his hands. This was the only way to combat it, to make sure I got want I wanted as well.
“If you want to keep this relationship mutually beneficial, you’ll have to accept my decisions. Or, would you rather live with the alternative?”
I don’t think he realized it, but for a fraction of a second his stern façade faltered to the frown of a child taken from his toys. I wanted so badly to call him on it, but the thought ceased as the expression was reigned under dark eyes. He stood, walking the small distance to my side of camp and crouching before me. My eyes followed him, dumbfounded as his fingers found my chin.
My heart leapt at the stare that flickered between my eyes, searching, before trailing down to my lips, to my neck. That stare could render me catatonic, I reflected, eyes heavy.
When he leaned in dark lashes closed completely, tilting my head and offering up my neck submissively. I anticipated his lips. They never came.
Instead he peeled back a section of my collar, fingers gliding delicately over the bruises inflicted by the deformed one.
“To have one of Kagome-sama’s ice wraps right now …” he murmured, almost to himself.
If his ambition was to tease, it was fast lost under genuine concern as he fretted over the hidden, dark marks. This man …
An airy laugh floated from my lips, stilling his fingers and confusing him. Tilting my head to him again honey eyes peek open, taking in the rare display of innocence etched across his face.
My hands reached up, clasping over his fondly.
For now, eyes did not reflect an unspoken passion – tinted red in its ferocity. If only now, they mirrored the soul of the barer.
‘Are you okay?’ his seemed to ask. He’d been picking up the flares of anxiety in my aura, the swirl of concern and uncertainty. He suffered with me, though he knew not why.
‘I’ll be fine,’ I assured silently. And as if the response was inadequate in itself I slowly leaned in, brining my lips to his. It was soft, the first innocent kiss we had shared in weeks.
‘I’ll be fine. I have you.’
Tonight there are no heated acts of war, no unlocking of limbs to sleep on separate sides of the battlefield. Tonight our clothes are on, and his back is to a tree. And my head is on his shoulder.
Tonight we sleep in each other’s arms.
