"Winter Jasmine" - (10 Parts)

[_Thread]

I am totally going to read this!! I just went through and copied all the text over into a text file. I'm going to turn it into a PDF for my reading ease. Hehe, I might have to keep on updating it

I'll comment on this when I'm finished! From what I've seen, it looks like a BEAUTIFULLY done story!

[Elle]

This is just so good. I love sneezy Miroku and you write him so well! Post more soon please!!! *begs you to post on bended knee*

[Enkidom]

My apologies for the long delay in updating, life stuff getting in the way! Also a minor rewrite, this chapter and the next one happen almost simultaneously, and I tried writing them at the same time at first, but it didn't seem to work so I gave up on the idea.

Chapter 8

The flames that shimmered around Kirara’s paws while flying were blazing with the intensity of a hearthfire in winter, and Miroku noted happily that they were just as comforting. She was keeping low to the mountain paths, visible as ribbons of pure white amongst the dappling of rocks jutting from beneath the snow, to protect her friend from the wind as much as possible. As she passed, little rivulets of meltwater formed beneath her feet, then quickly evaporated into miniature geysers of steam that cleared Miroku’s throbbing head somewhat. They were making very good time with only himself instead of four full sized riders, one small one and Kagome’s rucksack – which almost counted as an extra full sized rider on its own - and he didn’t think it would be too long before they reached the village.

“I wonder if Kagome was ri..ih…IIISSHHHNNNXXXT…hehKSSSSSHHHH…please excuse me…right Kirara,” he mused, pinching at the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger to partially relieve some of the aching pressure that was building up once again in his head and swaddling the blankets more tightly around himself. “Are Sango and I really just tiptoeing around each other?”

Kirara twisted her head around so that she could achieve a passable over the shoulder stare with one of her slit-pupiled scarlet eyes, gave a feline sigh, and batted him gently on the crown of his head with a tail in a way that she hoped implied that she wondered why it had taken this long for such an idea to finally sink in. Then wrapped it round him to make him warmer and more comfortable. After that she began to plan how to nudge Sango into conversation with Kagome, providing of course she hadn’t already nudged herself or Kagome hadn’t taken the initiative, as she was wont to do when romance was involved.

”Should I take that as a yes?” Miroku shouted over the noise of the wind, then coughed several times as the action produced a brief burning pain in his raw throat. He scratched at the thick, cream coloured, fur around one of the cat demon’s ears and could feel the bass thrumming of her purr against his legs through her flank. It was somehow easier in this form not to think of Kirara as Sango’s pet, but a friend, companion and equal. He did have to admit though that her kitten form had its uses, particularly when it came to attracting the attention of young village women who were enchanted by her. Of course he did have to make sure that none of his companions were around when he asked her to do such favours for him, as no doubt they would misunderstand his intentions.

Kirara blinked at him and let out a short, non-threatening growl that somehow managed to convey in no uncertain terms that he should. She could feel an itch behind her other ear and tried to indicate to Miroku through much twitching and purring that she would like very much for him to switch his ministrations to that one. Again she wished she could speak, most humans seemed somewhat dense when it came to the finer nuances of body language, but finally Miroku seemed to get the message and moved his scratch.

“Hey! something just bit me,” Miroku exclaimed, drawing back his hand and holding it up in front of his face. He had to admit that he was not entirely surprised to see Myoga dangling from one of his fingers, proboscis stuck just beneath the nail, and slowly bloating with his blood. Gently but firmly he grabbed hold of the diminutive flea demon between his fingers and coaxed him loose.

“My apologies respected monk, it’s just that it’s so cold up here and I needed the warmth, but thank you for being more considerate than Master Inuyasha,” Myoga babbled as he dangled from Miroku’s pinched grip, the monk’s frowning face becoming his entire world.

“Hmmmm, you probably don’t want to be drinking my blood at the mo..oh…IIIISSSHHHNNNXXT…excuse me, moment,” Miroku muttered, stifling the sneeze into his shoulder partly for the sake of politeness, partly to avoid sending Myoga – who really wasn’t much larger than a dragonfly - flying off into the trackless mountains below them. “And, not that it is unwelcome in the slightest, but to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“Ah, we flea demons are immune to all diseases, so I wouldn’t worry about that,” Myoga started, completely oblivious to the fact that Miroku’s look said that was the last thing that he was actually worried about. “Well I thought that you may need some help in identifying whether Lord Harada’s sword does indeed have some sort of mystical connection to its original owner, and thus would be of use in combat with Naraku…” Before he could get much further Miroku grinned and placed him gently on the star shaped patch of black on Kirara’s forehead.

“And you also thought that since Inuyasha, Sango, Kagome and Shippo were going into combat with one of Naraku’s demon puppets, allied very tentatively with an angry elemental, whereas I was being sent back to a comfortable, safe town which you could hopefully slip away into before I began my journey to join them with that sword, you’d come with me,” he chuckled, though not for the first time on the journey he felt a slight stab of annoyance at the situation. While he understood and was grateful for his friends’ concern, and would quite freely admit that if it was any of them who were sick he would no doubt have insisted on much the same arrangement he couldn’t shake a nagging, completely irrational feeling of being a burden, weak. He was sure it was part of the general malaise of the cold, and cheered himself up by conjuring a mental image of what would happen to Inuyasha if he had caught some sort of malady before going into combat. Kagome in his mind’s eye bellowed “SIT!” over his vehement protestations of health and then mind’s eye Miroku, Shippo and Sango tied him to Kirara’s back and asked her to take him as far away as possible, and not return until someone came for her.

Myoga shook his bulbous head, his affronted look all the confirmation that Miroku needed that he was correct. “Not a bit of it, oh you misjudge me as much as Master Inuyasha does!” he complained.

“Of course not,” Miroku replied soothingly, then changed the subject quickly. “Do you believe the blade really is Onigumo’s? You must have got a good look at it at dinner last night, Myoga. Naraku may well be mistaken since it is doubtful he has seen it for himself, swords can look very similar. If not then perhaps we should turn and follow the ot…KKKNNNXXTT…Heh…KKKKKKSHHH, excuse me, others now.”

Myoga hopped from foot to foot in an agitated manner, causing Kirara to flick her ear in irritation. He could either show ignorance, which was something that was never healthy as a demon’s advisor, even an advisor to as noble a demon as Inuyasha’s father had been; alternatively he could lie, the result of which would be that someone may well end up suffering – be it Inuyasha and his friends if the sword was not genuine or himself if it was and Miroku didn’t bring it back. It was the possibility of his own suffering that finally swayed his decision, “I am afraid I do not know, but if Naraku’s puppet is so interested in obtaining it, then there is a strong possibility that it is.”

They had just swept around a natural sheer cliff on the face of one of the mountains and onto a broad, snow veiled plateau that sloped more gently down towards the Hida foothills and Shinji’s town. Standing on it was a group of warriors, lacquered armour glinting in the wan afternoon sunshine that was just about managing to force its way through Sorano’s stormclouds. Shinji Harada was easily identifiable as their leader, his scar visible under his helmet. The rakish charm of his grin was gone though, replaced by the look of grim, utterly professional, determination that Miroku knew so well as part of Sango’s demon hunter mask, particularly when she had people to defend. Suddenly Miroku noticed that half a dozen of the warriors were carrying bows, drawn with arrows nocked, and they were pointed right in their direction. Yesterday’s conversation with Sango about the dangers of approaching a village of demon hunters riding a flying demon sprung to his mind.

He rather wished it hadn’t as one of the warriors shouted “demon advance guard...fire!!” and six arrows flew in their direction. At least Shinji had the decency to look horrified and shout “no, I know them, hold your fire!”

Unfortunately it was too late. Kirara let out a warning roar and lurched skywards. Miroku just about managed to catch Myoga in time before he could fall off, accidentally squashing him in the palm of his hand as he grasped at Kirara’s neck ruff to restore his own balance while instinctively swinging his staff in a wide arc. Three arrows whistled past his head, one only missing his reddened cheek by a hair’s breadth, one clattered off his staff and broke, one passed harmlessly under Kirara’s feet and the last nicked her shoulder, but was deflected by the thick fur and muscle there before it could do any real harm.

“Oooooh, I think I made the wrong decision.” Myoga groaned as he forced himself back into shape and hopped onto one of the monk’s fingertips for a better view.

“Well at least the excitement has cleared my headache” Miroku thought to himself as Kirara limped in to land some distance from the warriors, her ears pricked, her eyes fixed on a point on the opposite side of the mountain from the one they had just come from. Shinji was running in their direction, his face pale. He was shouting something, but it was hard to tell what over the howling of the wind.

It was as he stepped forward to meet the headman that Miroku realized that something was wrong. The blankets still loosely wrapped around him were flapping in the icy mountain breeze true, but if that noise really was the wind, then there would be no way that any of them other than Kirara would even be able to stand. And it was coming from the direction that she was now staring, growling and hackles visibly raised. It was also becoming louder.

“Lord Monk, are you alright? Where are your friends?” Shinji called over the growing din, still running as fast as his ornate armour would allow, sword drawn. Then, with more than a measure of steel in his voice he added “What was in the soup at dinner last night?”

“Fine, Kirara was hit, though it looks like not much more than a flesh wound; they’re fine and I will explain later why I’m here; and spiced snapper” Miroku shouted back, brown eyes bright with adrenaline. He realized exactly why he had been asked the last question, there was some sort of danger coming, and Lord Harada wanted to ensure that it was really him. “Now why...”

His voice trailed off as he saw what was producing the din. A chaotic column of THINGS was skittering towards them, some flying, some crawling, some marching. They were all ugly, misshapen minor demons, serpent like, insectiod and humanoid. The howling cacophony was their combined sound. Flying above them, leading them towards the town, Miroku could see one of Naraku’s venom wasps.

Shinji’s warband looked very small by comparison, though they all wore the same masks of determination that Shinji himself did. Miroku could hear the archers nocking to fire another volley of arrows.

“I must have words with Sango about what she considers for the good of my health” Miroku groused under his breath. Still, he did have to admit that mortal peril had made him rather forget about his cold. He looked around again at the warriors, standing ready, betraying none of the fear that they must have been feeling. Dropping the blankets he carefully reached into his robes and pulled out a fistful of spiritual scrolls, enchanted to destroy demons with a single touch. Lord Harada was now standing next to him. He wasn’t surprised to note that Myoga appeared to have vanished again.

“One of our scouts spotted them. I told you all last night that I feared it was only a matter of time before they found out that the metal supplies have dried up. I must admit I had rather hoped that we would have a little more, but it appears that they have different ideas,” he hissed, sword hand making a sweeping gesture to encompass the massed demon ranks. “Still, at least it is only minor demons, we should be thankful for small mercies. I have no right to ask Lord Monk, but would you be willing to help us fight? We are quite heavily outnumbered. If not I suggest you take Kirara and find shelter in town.”

Miroku came to a decision, Shinji’s words from the previous evening mingling with an image burned into his mind that he never wished to see again, Sango’s face when she saw the devastation wrought on her village by a similar demon band. With only one venom wasp to worry about, it would be possible for him to use his wind-tunnel, though it would always be a risk absorbing that amount of demonic energy at once, and there was always the chance that other demons in the horde would be poisonous. He forced away the memory of the pain that had followed the last time that he had absorbed poisonous creatures, which it appeared were able to affect him much more easily through the wind tunnel. If he didn’t do something when he had the power to, he thought, what kind of man would that make him? Not one worthy to lift his family’s curse, not one worthy of his friends’ faith, not one worthy of Sango. Slowly he swung on his heel, his face calm, his voice level.

“Lord Harada, tell your men to stand behind me. No matter what happens they are not to move past me unless I completely fail, in which case it will not matter. Dig your blades into the ground and brace yourselves just in case. Kirara?” he stated, modulating his voice to make the final word a question.

Kirara roared an acknowledgment, knowing full well what was going to happen, and strode purposefully towards the warrior band. The archer whose arrow had grazed her appeared to be shaking.

“Kirara, if this fails...”

Kirara cut him off, butting her enormous head into his side and roaring, thinking “today is not your day to die, Inuyasha was right when we fought the plague demon, humans are so melodramatic,” then stepped behind him, her powerful shoulders supporting him.

“What are you going to do? Are you mad? Surely you don’t intend to fight them all alone? If so I shall have to order my men to render you unconscious for your own protection.” Shinji yelled, raising his hand slightly as if setting a signal for his samurai.

“Watch.” Miroku replied, simply.

He thought for a second of how he could get Kirara further out of harm’s way, but given that he actually had no way to physically move half a ton of very stubborn sabretoothed tiger, and that she didn’t seem in a particularly tractable mood, he decided against pressing the issue and simply took the comfort from her presence that she offered. He took a deep breath, offered a sincere prayer to Buddha that this wouldn’t provoke the ultimate end of the curse and tore off the prayer beads and blessed cloth strip that kept Naraku’s curse in check, to reveal a circle of absolute nothingness about the size of an apple in the centre of his palm. The howling of the wind from it clashed with the sound of the demons and overpowered them in short order. Slowly at first the creatures began being dragged towards the hole, then more quickly until the first one vanished inside it, then another, then a stream, then a flood and finally a torrent. With each demon that vanished, Miroku felt as if his heart had skipped a fraction of a beat. He could hear the stunned exclaimations of the soldiers as they grasped their swords tight, watching demon after demon vanish until none were left but the venom wasp, which was buzzing furiously, straining to escape the pull. Finally it too gave itself up to its fate and allowed itself to be drawn in. As it was, Miroku grimaced at the stabbing pain in his right arm, then wrapped the cloth back around his hand, sealed it with the beads and slumped into the snow against Kirara, utterly drained.

“Not today Naraku. Bad luck.” He whispered thankfully as Kirara licked at his face. “Hey, Kirara, your tounge is rough, be gentle!” he laughed. Then Shinji Harada was standing over him, face under his helmet a mask of shock, awe and not a little fear.

“What did you do?” he gasped, staring at where the demons had been only seconds before.

“The demon who is behind all this, the one who turned Sorano against you, the one that organized this demon band to attack your town, cursed my family long ago with what you just saw,” Miroku replied, using Kirara’s shoulder to help him stand. “He wants the sword you carry.”

Shinji rested a hand on Miroku’s shoulder, questions burning in his eyes “what of Etsu? You only mentioned Sorano. And why my sword? What could a demon possibly want with a simple blade?”

Miroku gestured for him to sit down on a hastily positioned blanket and started from the beginning of the story of the group’s trip into the mountains, his telling interspersed at random points with violent sneezes, it appeared that now he was out of mortal danger, his body had remembered the cold.

“And that is why Kirara and I are here now Lord Harada, we may well need Onigumo’s sword to defeat whatever incarnation of Naraku is manipulating this situation.”

The muscles under his scarred eye had started to twitch with anger when Miroku told him of how Naraku had used his shape to attack Etsu and had not stopped since. “Can you carry two Kirara?” he asked her, with a full formal bow. Kirara nodded, but just as he was about to swing himself on, Miroku gestured for him to stop.

“Please Lord Harada, you should stay here. Believe me, I absolutely understand the conflict ihhhh..nnnnxxxxtt of love and duty. Right now your greater duty is to your town than the one you love, no matter how much that hurts. Please trust in Kagome’s words last night, we will do our best for Etsu.”

Shinji clenched his fist, glared and then nodded as he stepped back towards his men. “You are quite right, Lord Monk…”

“Call me Miroku, please. I am only a wandering monk, there is no real need for such formality, and besides, a friend of Sango’s is a friend of mine,” he said, his warm smile genuine.

Shinji nodded and bowed as he handed over the blade. “Go safely, oh, and here, take this...” he added, tossing Miroku a gourd flask.

“It’s a mixture of warmed Sake and local herbs,” he explained at the monk’s quizzical look, “very good for winter chills. You sound quite miserable and I wouldn’t want to say to Sango that I sent you back improperly prepared. Have you ever seen her when she’s angry?” he laughed.

“Oh once or twice.” Miroku grinned back. “Though in this case it would be one of Kagome’s lectures that you should be really worried about. Even Inuyasha has to pay attention to them! We will all see you when we return.”

“Please ensure that you do, oh and if you see any winter jasmine, take some for Sango, she does love it so.” Shinji called after the departing figures, and he saw Miroku raise his hand in acknowledgement, though not his broad smile.

Both Miroku and Kirara sent a brief prayer that their friends would be safe and well when they arrived.

[KawaiiKitty]

Damn, this just gets better and better, doesn't it? KawaiiKitty's professional opinion is: it was well worth the wait. Just don't do that again, okay? Haha, just messing!

What I really like about this story is you really give characters a look in that don't normally get used in fanfic an awful lot but are no less important to the anime, like Kirara and Myoga. You write Myoga very well, you really do seem to capture the essence of the characters which is really hard to do so it makes me jealous!

And of course I love Kirara in this story, I can imagine how hard she is to write since she doesn't speak but you do SUCH a great job of conveying her feelings and intentions without speech.

And Miroku! Aww, I just want to grab him and squeeze him. I really do. Poor guy! And, he really appreciates the way he has been portrayed in this chapter!

[aggedy_ann]

This was great, again. I'd go into detail, but my mind is just kinda for many reasons; I think the story took the last functioning bits.

I don't mind waiting when it's this good.

I do love how you put in that the excitement/danger of the situation made Miroku forget he was sick; it's a very true phenomena and I love it, especially as how then these things tend to return with a vengenace.

[Enkidom]

Awwww, thank you both so much, I'm so glad you enjoyed it, and I am very happy that Miroku approves of his portrayal! I'm particularly chuffed about the comment on Kirara because it's hard to write her when you don't speak cat...LOL!

I really do appreciate, as always, the time and thought put into comments!

[Enkidom]

Chapter 9

“This is not going well…” Shippo reflected from where he was floating above the elementals’ manor house, Etsu’s comatose form draped over the balloon like form that was one of his most common transformations. He could feel the waves of febrile heat emanating from her, and every so often he felt a lock of her hair, which must have once been a similar argent tone to her sister’s but was now no more than a washed out dapple, flicker against his face as if in the feeblest of breezes. The demon puppet, which had now abandoned its guise as Sorano’s advisor and adopted a considerably larger and more fearsome aspect, appeared to be almost impervious to their blows. Meanwhile Sango was struggling to throw her great bone boomerang with only her left arm, while the right hung limp and broken by her side; Inuyasha and Sorano, working together effectively at last, were striking with considerable ferocity, but ultimately with futility. Even Kagome’s blessed arrows, which had in the past wounded Naraku himself, had been turned aside by the creature’s hide, which was the colour of granite and, it would appear, just as hardy.

Not for the first time he wished that they were back in the little toy boat, enlarged by his fox magics. He certainly wouldn’t have claimed it was a pleasant journey…Sango and Kagome had huddled together and started whispering to each other almost as soon as the winds that Sorano commanded had lifted them into the skies while he had been left brushing squalling snow out of his face and listening to Inuyasha complain about how rough the journey was (he hoped that Kagome would notice the lump on his forehead when he shifted back to his regular shape, courtesy of his question about just how the journey was any different to the many flights that Inuyasha had taken on Kirara). Sorano herself meanwhile, bourne on the gale in front of them, looked even more terrifying than she had when he had stood his ground in front of her, she looked truly like the implacable force of nature that the word “elemental” implied. On the other hand the boat was at least safe – more or less, a little voice inside his head amended. Despite the bravado with which he boasted about his kitsune powers to Inuyasha in particular, he did have to admit that they were not entirely reliable.

***

Sango bit down on her tongue as she was forced to use her broken right arm to momentarily balance her boomerang as she brought it around for another throw. She could taste the coppery, salty tang of blood as she pivoted with the grace of a dancer on the ball of her right foot, left lashing out to smash aside one of the puppet’s tentacles. She wished she had more time to think about her earlier conversation with Kagome, but right from the moment the little boat had landed, and they had all walked in to Sorano’s home to see her “advisor” injecting Etsu with venom from a stinger that seemed to be part of his arm it had been Sango the demon hunter that was needed, and so that was the face she wore. Idly she wished she could shake the feeling that the oh so familiar black bodysuit and light armour that marked her out as such had suddenly become just a shell…until Inuyasha and Sorano – who seemed to work together very well despite their antagonism – again opened up a gap in the creature’s defences. Then her instincts came back to the fore and she leapt to continue the pattern that marked the demon hunter’s life, catch, balance, throw, catch balance, throw.

***

A whipping limb tore into Inuyasha’s side, throwing him against a support beam with a thud that was only prevented from being more sickening by Sorano’s interposing cushion of air. Between teeth gritted to ward off the pain he cursed violently, “Damn, this is useless.” He could see from the palour on Sango’s face and smell from the musk of her sweat that she must be close to exhaustion. Kagome was down to her last two arrows and Sorano’s deadly hails of ice shards had become little more than a stinging icy drizzle. His magic blade Tessaiga felt heavy in his hands, even it seeming to admit that it had given absolutely its all in the battle. He could feel the part of him that was true demon growling in his gut, calling on him to cast the magic blade, forged out of a fang from the mouth of his full demon father in part to protect Inuyasha from the demon part of his heritage that could utterly destroy his humanity if it gained ascendancy, aside and fight it with raw power, rage, tooth and claw. Desperately he clung on to the look on Kagome’s face the first time she had ever seen him as a demon. He didn’t want to ever inflict that pain on her again. Thoughts of what he might do to his friends followed – the true demon in half dog-demons was particularly savage and indiscriminate.

“You say this is just a puppet?” Etsu called out in a tone of icy incredulousness over the din of the battle and Inuyasha’s inner conflict

“Yes,” Inuyasha snapped, actually quite thankful for the opportunity to vent some of his frustration “Though I must admit it isn’t quite as easy to destroy as they normally are…step back!!”

Sorano danced backwards just in time to avoid being lashed by the same limb that had only moments ago struck Inuyasha, catching a glimpse as she did so of flashes of flame licking across the late afternoon sky around the feet of a feline form, growing ever larger as it approached.

“I think your friends are returning,” she intoned, resuming her place at his side.

“I hope Miroku has that sword…Damn why won’t you just FALL??!!!” Inuyasha screamed, half cursing, half imploring, slicing into the harrying limb. “Sango, Kagome! Miroku and Kirara are on their way. Any idea on how to hurt this yet?”

The question seemed to dredge Sango’s demon-hunter instincts from the mire of adrenalin, pain and fatigue that they were sinking in and between ragged gasps for breath she shouted “Kagome, how many arrows do you have left?”

“Two!”

“Put a magic jewel shard on one of them, see if its power can break through that hide.” Sango ordered. The purified shards of the sacred jewel shard that Kagome contained a magic that they had all seen destroy demons with just a simple touch.

“Uh-huh!” Kagome nodded as she frantically felt around for the small vial she kept them in.

“If it survives that, I’ll try and widen the wound. Inuyasha, then you and Sorano need to hit it with everything you have. If it survives that…well then we hope that Naraku is afraid of Onigumo’s sword!”

Kagome’s arrow flew with a trail of coruscating purple energy arcing out behind it and struck the creature right in the centre of its massive body. For an instantaneous forever it seemed as if it was going to be deflected, but then it tore through, and was swiftly followed by Sango’s weapon, which struck at exactly the same spot and finally tore through the puppet’s rock-like skin. Inuyasha grabbed Sorano around her waist with one hand as he leapt – ignoring the way that she stiffened her entire body in an affronted manner as he did so, and let the sudden gale that she summoned buffet him into exactly the right position to tear into it with all his might, his magic blade glowing crimson and pulsing as if alive. Through the chaos he could smell sandalwood, cinnamon and Kirara’s slightly sulphurous musk, and as Sorano released a razor edged hailstorm of ice-shards he yelled as loud as he could, hoping that Miroku would hear him, “The sword if you have it…not your staff.”

Inuyasha saw a blade flash in the remains of the wan winter sunlight as he and Sorano dropped towards the ground, followed by a bass rumble of pain, that quickly became a roar, and then silence as a second sparking arrow hit home and the creature simply imploded, showering everyone with a thick, gritty dust. Kirara dropped to the ground next to Sango, who almost immediately fell against her friend’s flank, coughing, panting and grasping her arm. Inuyasha and Miroku tried their best to make Sango comfortable with Kirara looking on anxiously as Shippo landed and transformed back into his kitsune shape once Sorano had lifted Etsu, whose own breathing was now rapid, shallow and thready and most of whose left hand side was now covered by an ugly, ominous black-purple stain, off his back. She gently carried her into the remains of the manor. Shippo and Kagome joined her once they had assured themselves that none of their friends were in immediate danger and had retrieved the sacred jewel shards, which Kagome would need to help her with the purification of Naraku’s poison.

***

“That’s not it either…” Kagome complained later, throwing a large packet of crisps into a growing pile of Inuyasha’s favourite foods from her time beside her in frustration. “Inuyasha, while I appreciate you packing my rucksack so that it isn’t as bulky, perhaps next time you could put the first aid kit on top rather than the crisps and noodles.”

“I thought we might get hungry on the journey, it seemed like a perfectly sensible way around to me.” Inuyasha replied with a shrug as he whittled a makeshift splint for Sango’s arm with her sword, his own not really being suited to such delicate work.

Kagome heaved a resigned sigh and had just opened her mouth to explain the importance of proper prioritization when Sorano emerged from one of the few places in the house still intact, the small paper screened chamber where she had been tending to Etsu. Shippo was sitting on her shoulder, tail swirling in the same icy breeze that tossed her hair in a manner quite different to the way that any of them had seen so far. A smile, rusty and hesitant and with the warmth of meltwater broke on Sorano’s face, while Shippo was beaming broadly. “She’s sleeping comfortably,” she announced, voice utterly formal, but underscored with genuine emotion, “thank you. I apologise to those who were injured. I still feel that Etsu is closer with humans than an elemental should be, but your kindness has been noted and is appreciated”

“Uh-huh,” Inuyasha acknowledged, putting the finishing touches to his work, “you should have made sure things were as they seemed before causing all this though.”

“Inuyasha, plea…a.. Heh..EhKSSSSHHH..se be charitable,” Miroku chided gently, then paused to sniffle and dab at his nose with the by now fairly useless handkerchief and sat down beside Sango, letting her rest her head against his shoulder “we all know Naraku’s manipulations can ensnare the wisest and most careful of people.”

Kagome nodded and added “And besides it isn’t as if none of us have ever rushed into anything without thinking properly first. It was our pleasure.” She finished with a bow that Sorano returned in full, almost dislodging Shippo, rather than with a simple tilt of the chin. “Aha!” She exclaimed, finally the bright green box from her rucksack and hurrying over to tend to Inuyasha’s gashes and bruises and to splint and sling Sango’s arm.

“No apologies are necessary,” Sango added, though somewhat distantly as she drifted further and further under the anaesthetic spell of a herbal infusion that Kaede, the sister of Inuyasha’s first love – killed by Naraku while wearing Inuyasha’s form, had insisted Kagome carry in case anyone was hurt in a way that she could not treat immediately, “your sister is safe now, that is what is important, take care of her. And please, lift these snows, while they remain Shinji’s town is in dange…”, her voice trailed off into the deep, sighing breaths of sleep as her head rolled into the curve of Miroku’s neck, sable hair, sweat soaked but still jasmine scented, falling across him like a second sash.

“Will she be alright?” Shippo asked, hopping down from Sorano’s shoulder and peering at Sango’s sleeping form with a worried frown.

“Of course,” Kagome replied, smiling reassuringly, “we just have to get her to a doctor in town who can set a bone properly. We take a bit longer to heal than you demons do.”

Miroku, deciding that there was very little he could do for her, lay Sango’s sleeping form down very gently as Kirara, now a small, scarlet eyed kitten again, curled up under her good left arm and walked out to join Inuyasha, who was standing knee deep in a snowdrift sniffing at the air. Inuyasha turned around as he heard the jangling of the rings on the Monk’s sacred staff and growled, “Naraku’s scent, it’s unmistakable.”

“Hmmmm, I think he was responsible for stirring up the mountain demons that attacked the village. Certainly they had one of his poison wasps with them, if so he can’t be far. Though of course by the time we have got back to Lord Harada and reported to him, and those of us who need to recover have recovered, the trail may have gone cold again.” Miroku pondered aloud, scratching his chin. “Do you regret missing the chance to end the chase here?”

Inuyasha’s doglike amber eyes glimmered in the twighlight as he responded, conspicuously avoiding the question asked, “Bah, we’ll catch up with him again Miroku. At least we know we are still travelling in the right direction.”

“Why Inuyasha,” Miroku chuckled, tapping the half-demon between the ears with his staff, “I think we should address you as Inuya…ah..ASSSHHHHHAAAA…excuse me, Inuyasha the noble samurai in future.”

“Not while I have my strength you won’t, monk” Inuyasha hissed, rising to the bait as Miroku had intended, though before he could say anything else Kagome’s firmest shout rang out around them.

“Miroku, get back in here before that chill gets any worse again!”

“You’re lucky you’re still sick Miroku.” Inuyasha muttered without venom at his friend’s retreating back.

Inside Kagome was tying the splint to Sango's arm while Shippo was attempting - not particularly successfully, to fashion a sling under her direction. Meanwhile Sorano raised an arm and outside, around Inuyasha, the snow stopped falling.

[Daphine]

This is really terrific

[KawaiiKitty]

squeak!

It's back...this story is back, my favourite little monk is back! I'm beside myself with glee, right now. Yup, couldn't resist commenting on this because...ahhfavouritestoryMirokucutenesseek!

This is so very much just like an episode. The fight scene was amazingly written and totally conveyed the tenseness of the situation and how hard they had fought. And then the scene with the rucksack to provide a cute little funny moment...and then the bit where Miroku lets Sango rest her head on his shoulder to add just the right amount of tenderness. Exactly like a real episode.

I can't figure out if this is the end or not, if it IS I sure will miss it...seeing new chapters of this story has been my joy for so many months.

And of course I can't go a whole comment without commenting on my dear Monk. I absolutely ADORE when people sneeze in the middle of words, and I laughed when he sneezed in the middle of saying "Inuyasha" because, it's a perfect word for it really. And yes, I'll be the queen of the obvious and say that this bit was my favourite and killed me with it's cuteness:

“Inuyasha, plea…a.. Heh..EhKSSSSHHH..se be charitable,” Miroku chided gently, then paused to sniffle and dab at his nose with the by now fairly useless handkerchief and sat down beside Sango, letting her rest her head against his shoulder “we all know Naraku’s manipulations can ensnare the wisest and most careful of people.”

SQUEAK!

[Enkidom]

Winter Jasmine – Chapter 10, Epilogue

Everyone was gathered once again in the headman’s dining hall. Shinji had insisted that no-one was allowed to leave until the village, and he personally, had displayed its thanks in the proper manner. At first Inuyasha had baulked, insisting that they must go while Naraku’s scent trail was still fresh. Then it was explained that “the proper manner” involved a feast, at which point his distaste for ceremony mysteriously vanished. During the meal Shippo noticed that Sorano had separated herself and was watching her sister and Shinji with a somewhat jaundiced expression. They were sitting together at the head of the table, hands resting on each other’s. Etsu’s winter blue kimono was now blowing in a breeze that seemed to whirl and dance with pure joy, and her own hair was now once again a lustrous silver and whipping around her face. Her happiness seemed infectious, pure and elemental. There were still obvious signs that she was not quite recovered. Her skin and eyes were still pallid, as opposed to Sorano’s lustrous ones, but otherwise the person who had been on the verge of death, and worse, believing herself betrayed by the man she loved for so long, on the verge of giving up on life and accepting it such a little time ago was utterly changed. It seemed only her sister – whom Shippo knew to care very deeply - was unmoved by the transformation.

“Um…Sorano.” He called, his voice now slightly more confident, but still probably pitched so that only Inuyasha could hear it properly.

“Yes little fox?” Sorano replied, the rusty attempt at a genuine smile inching across her face again.

“Is anything wrong? You seem sad.”

Sorano regarded Shippo quizzically, stormclouds gathering in her eyes again as she did. “It is none of your concern.” She muttered, obviously unsure of exactly how to respond.

”No it isn’t, but you and your sister are fine elementals, and she’s alive and seems like she’s very happy. Why doesn’t that make you happy?” he asked, little licks of blue foxfire dancing around him.

Sorano’s tugged at a flying lock of hair as she answered. “As I said to the puppet, when I thought that he was my advisor, tales of elementals who become involved with humans always end in tragedy. Particularly we winter spirits because we represent the time when nothing grows and when life is hard. Mind you, I always felt that Etsu was more of a summer spirit in a winter spirit’s form.”

Shippo smiled up at her, though she could see that his fox legs were still shaking ever so slightly, probably from the memory of their first encounter. “I’ve heard lots of stories, and you know Sorano, they don’t always end the way you think they will. Perhaps this is one. And anyway, winter can be fun too…I mean when else can you see the look on Inuyasha’s face when you hit him with a snowball!”

“You are a wise as well as a brave little fox,” Sorano said, and there was even a hint of her laugh, which made the sound of icicles hitting the ground and shattering. Shippo’s chest puffed out with pride. “Now, as for snowballs, let me tell you some little secrets…”

With the group on its way at last, Miroku and Sango sat cross legged and slightly apart on the veranda of the little way shelter constructed to allow travellers to rest, and to inform them that they would soon be arriving at the last town before the Hida Mountains. Both were seemingly lost in thought and neither had said a word to the other since they had settled down in the now slightly more seasonal spring red skied twilight (though there was still a bite to the air). Inuyasha was a way ahead, sniffing at the air, and Kagome and Shippo were picking some hardy berries that had survived the snows for the journey (the difference between the two was that Kagome was collecting them in a bento box from her rucksack, Shippo appeared to be collecting them in his mouth). Hidden in the folds of Miroku’s purple priest’s sash was a small survivor of a plant, with a thick, strong green stem and several yellow flowers. It was far enough away from his face to avoid irritating his nose too much, but every so often he did have to rub his sleeve over slightly watering eyes, or discretely scratch at an itching nose. Kagome’s advice and Kirara’s unspoken answers to his questions played over in his head. He looked over at Sango, who was framed by a halo of sunlight, running her fingers through her ponytail with a thoughtful expression. For a second he idly wondered if she’d sat like that on purpose because it made her look beatific, more beautiful than usual, but the answer was probably not, Sango’s innate lack of artifice was one of the things that drew him most towards her. He reached inside his sash and pulled out the sprig of jasmine, wrinkling his nose as the flower further irritated it.

“Sango, here, I rescu…eh…EhKSSSSHHH…Heh…KNNNXXXXTTT…EEHHHKSSHHHHHHMPPT!!, oh please excuse me, I rescued this before the snows departed.” He started, turning away abruptly and stifling the last two sneezes against the sleeve of his robe. “It’s for you. Though would you please mind taking it because this “hay fever” really is quite irritating.

Sango reached over with a shy smile and let Miroku drop the offending vegetation into her hand, which she clutched against her chest. Then she dropped her head to look at the floor “Thank you Miroku. Very much. And I apologise for my actions earlier, when I sent you to collect Shinji’s sword. Though I cannot apologise for my reasons. I have truthfully seen strong men die from mountain snow fever.”

Mirkou turned to face her, the burning itch in his nose having appeared to subside now that the jasmine was no longer in his possession. “Sango” he whispered, “I will not pretend that I was not at least slightly hurt, especially since you were all going into danger, but I do understand your reasoning, and indeed Buddha knows it worked out well in the end, as the sword was necessary as we suspected.” He looked at her arm, now hanging now in a sling that was neatly tied over her shoulder, “I may have no love of combat, but I still wish I could have been there.”

Sango raised her head until she was looking right into his eyes, she had heard the tone of an uspoken concern in her voice. “Lord Monk, listen to me, when we fight, I have absolute faith in you to guard my blindside, and that is the greatest compliment a demon hunter can offer. Indeed it is one that I would only have given to my father. And I know you would have come with us to fight the demon puppet even though you were sick. The demon hunter in me actually thought it would be a valid tactical risk as you are such a well balanced fighter. But since I met you all you see, there’s not just the demon hunter who tried to kill Inuyasha even when she had seen you burying the dead from her village despite the fact that they were strangers to you all any more. There’s a part of me that would break if any of you died. That part is getting stronger, and I welcome it. Besides, it wasn’t just the sword…Shinji told me about you using the wind tunnel on the demon band.”

Miroku didn’t look aside. “I had to, it was the only way, otherwise they’d all have been killed. And the town destroyed shortly afterwards.”

“No…it wasn’t the only way to fight, but it was the only way to be sure of winning. There’s a difference. And it was a very brave decision given that you could not know if any of the demons were venomous.”

“There couldn’t have been any other decision made.” Miroku replied, helping her pin the piece of jasmine to her kimono.

“And that, Miroku, is why I could not let you catch mountain fever.” Sango muttered softly as she gingerly reached out into the gap between them.

***

“Hey Miroku, Sango, stop dawdling,” Inuyasha called over his shoulder. “We’ve been here quite long enough and much as Naraku stinks, his scent won’t last forever!”

Kagome’s smile almost enveloped her face…Inuyasha never had learned that when he saw that smile, the results were never going to be good for him

“Inuyasha,” She asked him, in her most deceptively honeyed voice, “do you remember how I have asked you on many occasions if you could possibly think a little before you speak? Now would be one of those occasions.”

“Uh, what are you blathering about Kagome?” Inuyasha asked, eyebrows raised. The hackles on the back of his neck started to raise as he spotted the dangerous look in Kagome’s eyes and realized exactly what word was right now working its way slowly towards her lips. “Hey, don’t you…”

“Inuyasha SIT!!” Kagome shouted, then in order to enforce quite how displeased she was at his total inability to read mood she added “SIT, SIT, SIT!!” for good measure

As Inuyasha splattered hard into the ground with a yelp, almost being buried in the melting snow as the enchanted necklace’s weight multiplied many times in quick succession. Shippo was sitting on the remains of a snowbank, watching Miroku and Sango’s shadows move together and then merge into one in the dwindling light. “Inuyasha’s hopeless,” he commented to no-one in particular, then looked up at Kagome and grinned, “but I think there may be hope for Miroku after all.”

The only sound that drifted across the icy breeze for a short time was a short fusillade of sneezing, followed by a slightly stuffy and resigned sounding apology, which was cut short. That was until the sound that everyone should, from past experience, have known was coming, the noise of a slap and an exclamation of pain. Kagome sighed deeply, part in frustration, part with resignation, Inuyasha rolled his eyes from the floor and Shippo just shrugged. “Or maybe not…” he finished, sadly.

As Miroku strode forward, chin tilted firmly towards the sky, red welt plainly visible on his face to join Inuyasha, who had finally regained his feet and the two began discussing how to find Naraku, as if absolutely nothing had happened, Kagome stopped to allow Shippo to hop into her bicycle basket and to allow Sango to catch up with her. Her best friend’s face was a mask, showing no expression, but she noticed that her hand rested over a sprig of yellow flowers pinned to her pink and green traveling kimono, right over the place where her heart would be.

“Um Sango…” Kagome started, twisting one sandaled foot against the barely visible well worn paving of the road, whose icy covering crackled and cracked beneath them.

“Uh huh” Sango replied, her eyebrow quirked, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth that had none of the demon hunter in it. Resting in the crook of her good arm, Kirara purred, and Sango gave the black star on her forehead a rub with her cheek, which produced outraged grumbling from Myoga, whose favorite spot (and hiding place) that was. Though somewhat hungry, he resisted the urge to feed – it was never wise to bite the face of the best friend of the one who feeds one. “You want to know what just occurred don’t you Kagome?” Sango chuckled.

”Well…just a little.” Kagome admitted, leaning in so close that she almost overbalanced and ended up lying in a patch of sad looking brambles.

“Come on Kirara, I think I hear “you’re not old enough to understand Shippo” in my future,” the little fox spirit grumbled as his friend hopped out of Sango’s arms and waited for Shippo to clamber down from the basket. Kirara’s twin tails swished and Shippo could have sworn that he saw the cat-demon wink as they trotted forwards to catch up with Miroku and Inuyasha.

In Kirara’s mind the moment between her best friend and the monk replayed, and she was well pleased. A demon’s plans sometimes did work out for the best.

[Guest dustbunni3]

Wow. I love Inuyasha fic when it's true to the characters, and this one is amazing. you are a very good writer.

as far as the storyline and how the characters were in this fic, i will say simply " :heart: "

That was beautiful.