UnBound Memories

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't profit.

Chapter 15

No Visible Mark

Four days of preparation for the wedding had passed, and Miroku was grateful that finally, he, Sesshomaru, Shippo, and Rin would be allowed to roam free on the streets of Tokyo, rather than wandering through shops or looking through catalogs with Kagome. InuYasha had pleaded with his fiancee to release him from his obligations for a day, but she had reminded him that this wedding was as much his as hers, to which he had pointed out that his ceremony would take place five hundred years in the past. She’d yelled at him to “Sit!” and laughingly, he'd reminded her the beads were gone. Sesshomaru, as though rising from the Higurashis’ table to help Kagome’s mother with the small stack of dishes she was carrying, had moved behind InuYasha and smacked him quite loudly at the back of his head. No change in expression or movement could have be seen on Sesshomaru’s part, as he took the dishes from Mrs. Higurashi and placed them in their respective places. Miroku had watched with amusement, surprised at Sesshomaru’s quick adaptation to these future humans, who would not have understood inu punishment of a bite to the back of the neck.

“Thank you, Lord Sesshomaru.”

Sesshomaru had bowed his head to Kagome before he left the house with Shippo, Miroku, and Rin back to their apartment, where they all now sat, intently glued to the thing on the wall called a television.

As something called an anime stopped, there was another moving painting Kagome had explained was a promotion for an upcoming show, this show called itself news.

“Head above the rest,” the announcer said as a shot of a crowd of Japanese businessmen in suits stood around a remarkably tall, black-haired man. “That could easily describe Sesshomaru Taisho physically as well as in business. See as Newsnight gets an exclusive interview of the young owner of the Taisho company.”

More fascinated than ever before, none wanting to blink, the four watched as there was a close-up of the man, with his large brown, almond eyes, jet black hair, and very human hands.

“I took the business over with the blessing of my father. I do not understand why it has been called a hostile take over…” one clip showed, with Sesshomaru looking nearly as cold and distant as he had before regaining his memory.

“I am unsure that is even me.”

Sesshomaru was squinting to see his own features in this strange man on the screen.

“And what about your romantic life?” the female reporter’s voice asked.

No answer came from the man, only the simple raising of an eyebrow.

“That is Lord Sesshomaru,” Shippo asked, laughing.

“Why does Chichi-ue look human?” Rin asked.

“Probably magic,” Shippo answered. "A high level fox demon can create illusions for others.”

“Then maybe you are still around as well,” Miroku said. “After all, in five hundred years, you would be considered very powerful.”

Shippo looked up to Sesshomaru who had tilted his head downward, toward his instruction manual. Sesshomaru looked up from it at the kit seated on the floor, eyes wide as he waited for an answer. “I know no other foxes. It is quite possible.”

Miroku gathered Shippo into his arms, taking the beaming little fox demon to his bedroom. Sesshomaru put the thick document aside and did the same with Rin. Though he knew she was getting far too old for this treatment, he felt he was making up for lost time.

“Houshi-sama is very good with Shippo.”

“Yes, he is.”

“Rin likes him.”

Sesshomaru tucked the girl into her bed and kissed her forehead, then moved to the family marking that had placed itself at the cheek below her left eye when he'd officially made her part of his branch of the clan, a tiny blue crescent moon that moved each time the pre-teen smiled.

“Chichi-ue, do you like him?”

“Yes, I do.”

Sesshomaru turned out the light in Rin’s room, making his way to his own, exchanging a nod with Miroku as they both entered their sleeping chambers.

********

Later that night, Miroku rose, hearing what he thought were whimpers, not from either of the children’s rooms, but Sesshomaru’s. Miroku forced himself out of the warm bed and into the hall, his eyes somewhat adjusting to the darkness. He saw that, for the first night since they had arrived, Sesshomaru had forgotten to shut his bedroom door. Miroku pushed the door open slightly more, hearing sobs coming from the form on the bed.

Miroku slid himself through the tiny opening he’d created and entered the inuyoukai’s room. He could see Toukijin and Tenseiga in the corner, both emanating faint auras and barriers of protection, which provided a dull illumination throughout the otherwise dark room. Moving himself to the left side of the bed, where Sesshomaru was curled in fetal position, Miroku knelt beside the crying demon, not quite sure what to do. Tentatively, he raised his hand and placed it on the demon’s shoulder, rubbing the now-healed arm.

“Shh. You are safe now. No one will hurt you.” Miroku repeated this like a mantra, trying to soothe the hurting demon. Though he knew Jin was long since dead, as was his bastard father, and would have been without the interference of the Inu no Taisho, a part of Miroku wanted to kill the inu’s former lover, to make him hurt before he killed him himself.

********

A few hours later, Sesshomaru tried to turn to lay on his back, the worst of the nightmares over, only to find something was stopping him. He looked down and saw a lightly tanned arm draped over his body and a head of a loose dark hair laying on his chest. The monk appeared to have been trying to comfort him, trying to ease his pain.

Sesshomaru gently shifted, pulling out from beneath the other man’s arm without disturbing him. He finally freed himself and slid off the bed from the other side, walking around the uncomfortable-looking human. Carefully, he pulled Miroku into his arms, debating on where to go from there. Too much movement could easily awaken the human, and it was nearing dawn, meaning the two young ones might rouse hearing noise in the hallway and any chance at additional sleep would be gone. Deciding he didn’t have much in the way of option, he placed Miroku on the right side of the rather large bed, returning to the left.

The demon was amazed at how quickly the sounds of the other man’s breathing lulled him into a comfortable slumber.

When he reawoke, he once again found himself beneath the monk’s arm, though it seemed that this time, Miroku had been drawn by the warmth next to him rather than a need to ease the lord's pain. As Sesshomaru shifted again, hoping to free himself as he had the night before, the arm’s grip grew tighter, a low hum escaping the monk’s lips, then dark violet eyes opened widely as he realized what he was clinging onto.

Miroku quickly retracted his arm and scurried to the other side of the bed, cheeks red with embarrassment and eyes flickering with a bit of fear.

Sesshomaru merely moved from the bed and walked to the dresser and mirror, hoping Miroku would not be able to see the same crimson color on his own face.

“You do not need to feel embarrassed, monk. I found you on the floor early this morning and moved you to the bed.” Sesshomaru grabbed the thing labeled hairbrush and began running it through his moonlight-colored mane.

“But I doubt I was…” Miroku rubbed his face. “I really am sorry. It has been a habit of mine for some time. That is why InuYasha and the others usually make me sleep away from them. One time InuYasha slept beside me and nearly killed me when I put my arm around him.”

“I somehow cannot imagine InuYasha is much of a cuddler, though as a baby, he would never sleep unless…” Sesshomaru stopped himself, feeling a heavy weight on his chest. There were so many missed opportunities, so many things that had gone wrong.

“He became a good man, um demon,” Miroku said, swinging his legs off of the bed, seeming to know why the daiyoukai's voice had drifted off.

“Despite me. Despite the fact the only time I saw him after my memories were blocked, I threatened to kill him.”

Miroku folded his arms across his chest, now standing only a few inches from the much taller demon. "Threatening him gave you first right to kill him and the right to kill anyone who interfered with that. I think somehow, you were protecting him.”

Sesshomaru stopped brushing the long hair and looked over his shoulder at the monk. He said nothing, but all remnants of the coldness and distance in his eyes seemed to have disappeared.

“I have been inside your mind. Even the part of you that was so far removed from the world around you is not capable of killing blood, whether you thought it was a half breed brother or a son you loved and gave birth to.” Miroku stepped in front of the demon lord and wrapped his arms around him, hoping he would not lose them in the process. “It is not your fault you missed out on his youth, but at least you can be here for him now, for his wedding, for his children.”

Sesshomaru did not return the embrace at first, and Miroku thought perhaps it was obvious to Sesshomaru that he was not usually very good with contact, unless he was grasping a woman’s posterior. Even as he held the hurting demon in his arms, awkwardness returned, though it surprised Miroku he felt it at his height when compared with the much taller demon. He felt strange trying to comfort the demon when he barely came up to that pale chest in front of him. He might as well have been Rin clutching to Sesshomaru’s leg.

But, as Sesshomaru bent his head down, resting his face on Miroku’s shoulder, all awkward or nervous thoughts faded. Miroku brought his formerly cursed hand to Sesshomaru’s hair, rubbing the head beneath his fingers, other hand rubbing Sesshomaru’s back. Sesshomaru was sobbing outright, and it made Miroku’s heart break to hear it. The intensity of his pain, that kind which leaves no visible mark, brought Sesshomaru to his knees, making Miroku struggle not to stumble backwards as Sesshomaru wrapped his arms around Miroku’s waist, face still buried at the monk’s shoulder.

“You never really got to cry, did you?” Miroku asked, not expecting or waiting for an answer. “All that you went through, and never a real time to show how much it hurt.” Without thinking, Miroku moved and placed a kiss on the white head on his shoulder. “You have friends now, loyal ones who would fight if anything happens to you, friends you can cry to, just as you are now to me.”

“You must think me weak,” Sesshomaru said, pulling away. “I do.”

“Never.” Miroku grabbed a nearby t-shirt and used it to wipe Sesshomaru’s face. “Letting someone share your burden does not make you weak. It only means you are normal.”

Sesshomaru gracefully rose to his feet and looked at the white shirt. It, like Miroku’s pale blue pajamas had a faint pink tint from Sesshomaru’s tears. “I was planning to wear that today.” He sighed and looked at the cream sweater on his dresser. “I will find something else.”

Miroku walked to the door, tossing the white shirt in a clothes hamper.

“Miroku,” Sesshomaru said as he began parting his hair to braid it to cover his ears, “thank you.”