Ressurection of a Monk

© Salome Wilde, 2008

Resurrection of a Monk

Chapter 2

Miroku trailed obediently behind his new master, feeling both lost and newly found. He wished he could remember where he had been heading when he was attacked, but he also knew it did not matter. Lord Sesshomaru had saved him, and his life was now proudly turned to the powerful yokai’s service. Watching him as they walked, he could not help but notice how regal was his bearing, how straight his back, how perfectly matched his small, swift steps. This demon was worthy of obedience and respect; he felt it deep within him. Perhaps it was divine will that had brought them together this day.

Where were they going? Miroku could not tell. He must center his mind on the moment, on simply following. The flow of Sesshomaru’s thick hank of silver-white hair, swinging softly at his hips as he strode, became the image through which the monk entered a walking meditation.

Sesshomaru paid little heed to his new charge. He focused on the first task he had decided upon: returning to tell Jaken and Rin his plans. Then he would find his brother and relieve himself of this mindless monk. Soon, however, he grew tired of this mortal method of reaching a destination. He realized that if he did not take to the air, he would have to allow the monk to eat, drink, and rest. Damn these weak humans. Without a word, his actions nearly a blur, he turned, grasped the monk at the waist, and hoisted him into the sky.

Miroku reacted instinctively, clutching his demon master around the shoulders as they became airborne. His stomach lurched, and he pressed his face into the enormous ruff of fur before him for relief. Was it the soft muskiness of it or the sensation of hurtling through the air that made him lightheaded—and deliciously so? As he surrendered to Sesshomaru’s control in this new and stimulating way, an image came to him of riding on the back of a great yellow cat, his arms around another’s waist—a woman’s! What fantasy was this? He probed tenderly at the image, afraid he would lose it entirely, but it also brought with it feelings of disloyalty. He was Sesshomaru’s now, not this black-clad woman’s, if indeed she truly existed. He rested his head and soon drifted into a much-needed slumber.

Sesshomaru felt the monk’s weight shift at his side, from tense and frightened to obedient and clinging to a heavier, slumbering mass. There was no difficulty in carrying him: Sesshomaru’s slender frame disguised a massive yokai strength. His mokomoko rippled at his shoulder as Miroku rested his head upon it. The sensation was not unpleasant.

As the sun set, the demon and his human passenger arrived at the clearing where Jaken and Rin sat, scaling fish. Rin’s high-pitched voice was laced with petulance as she complained loudly of the fish’s odor. Jaken’s nasal scold was equally loud and even more grating to Sesshomaru’s sensitive ears. The inuyokai touched lightly to earth with the monk still clinging to him, stirring in his sleep. Rin leapt up, tossing the fish carcass carelessly—or perhaps intentionally—into Jaken’s lap, and ran toward Sesshomaru, arms outstretched.

“Sesshomaru-sama! Sesshomaru-sama!” she squealed. She would have flung herself at him, but was stopped short by the sight of the monk in his arms. “Oh, you have brought Hoshi-sama to visit us! Is he all right, Sesshomaru-sama?”

Miroku woke at the sound of Rin’s greeting. He felt he should let loose of Sesshomaru, but the yokai did not seem inclined to release him. He wondered at it but did not speak. The firm grasp was soothing to his unsure mind. If nothing else in his world were certain, the grip said, this yokai’s power is.

“Yes, Rin,” Sesshomaru said, taking a few steps forward and releasing the monk onto the soft ground beside the small cookfire. “The monk is well.”

Miroku felt like a child, handled delicately by a strong father. He looked up into Sesshomaru’s eyes but found no reinforcement for his feelings there. His savior’s gaze was cold, impenetrable.

Rin went to the monk and subjected him to an exuberant questioning: “Why are your robes torn so, Hoshi-sama? And your face is all dirty. Did you do battle? Did Lord Sesshomaru rescue you, Hoshi-sama?”

“Yes, child,” replied Miroku. “Sesshomaru-sama is my master now.” He knelt and bowed humbly, for the child must be the lord demon’s daughter. But who was the small green yokai shuffling forward and shouting?

“Rin, do not bother Lord Sesshomaru and the monk with your foolish questioning!” Jaken screeched. “Go back and finish preparing the meal!”

“Oh, Sesshomaru-sama,” Rin continued with zeal, as if she had not heard Jaken’s shrill command. “Will Hoshi-sama stay with us now?” She turned back to the monk and took his hand. “Lord Sesshomaru is the greatest warrior in the land! He saved me and now he saved you, too! Please, Miroku-sama, say you will stay with us! We can play together and you can help us cook the horrible fish Jaken catches!”

“Lord Sesshomaru has no need of other followers, Rin! You are lucky he puts up with you. Now do as I tell you!” Jaken’s whole body puffed with outrage.

“Rin,” Sesshomaru interrupted, his voice an unconditional command.

The girl fell instantly silent and released Miroku’s hand. She stood at attention, a perfect little child soldier, thought Miroku. …But was she truly the yokai’s child? …and how had she known his name?

“Take the monk to the river to wash himself. I will speak with Jaken.”

“Yes, Sesshomaru-sama!” Rin shouted her respect in her most adult voice. She took Miroku’s hand again and dragged him off, chattering a list of the all they could do together when he was not busy serving Lord Sesshomaru.

Sesshomaru turned to Jaken, who stood in uncharacteristic silence. He seemed about to explode. Sesshomaru had no trouble reading his emotionally volatile vassal, of course. Jaken was obviously afraid he would be displaced from his presumed status as most loyal and valued adherent. But knowledge of Jaken’s motives and a willingness to indulge them were two entirely different matters. Before the creature rallied his senses enough to speak, Sesshomaru made his declaration: “The monk was injured and has lost his memory. I will return him to my brother’s care. You will stay here with Rin until I return.” He turned away, just as Jaken found his voice.

“What has that fool done to deserve such attention from the great Lord Sesshomaru? Surely he could not have done you any service deserving of such attentions. Let me escort him so you need not sully yourself with his unworthy presence, Sesshomaru-sama.”

Sesshomaru glared down at Jaken. Both knew that if the little yokai spoke another syllable of protest, he would be soundly thrashed. Instead, he bowed deeply and muttered, “Yes, Sesshomaru-sama.” But, as he did, he wondered what had transpired between his master and the monk to inspire such kindness. Whatever it was, he resented it.

At the river, Miroku splashed cold water onto his face and took stock of his tattered garments. He marveled that the blood on his robes found none to match it on his flesh beneath. What had Lord Sesshomaru done to heal him so? Perhaps the child would know. First, though, he needed to know how she knew his name.

“I remember your friend Lady Sango telling me it when I asked. I told her you were handsome—though not as handsome as Lord Sesshomaru. She laughed. Will you marry her someday, Miroku-sama? Lady Kagome says you will.”

Miroku did not know how to respond. Sango? Kagome? The names, it seemed, should be known to him. But they did not resonate. Should he ask the child more? How was it that she knew him and others who apparently were close to him but he did not know any of them? The girl looked up at him earnestly, and her open nature touched him. Having Sesshomaru for her parent or guardian or, in any case, protector, must bring her the sense of safety and security that radiated from her. Perhaps she had never known the kind of hardship he faced. He rubbed his hand, thinking for the thousand-thousandth time how different his life might have been had his grandfather not been cursed by Naraku. Could this yokai lead him, protect him, help him to forget his anguish, just for a time? Certainly, he had healed him in some miraculous way. Perhaps he was equally capable of other wonders. Miroku wanted the opportunity to find out. If this meant shedding a past he could no longer remember, so be it.

This reverie was interrupted by Sesshomaru’s appearance. Silhouetted by the setting sun, he was magnificence personified. To the longing eyes of the resurrected monk, all of life was this demon god of icy beauty and commanding elegance with his strong arm wrapped around his waist, carrying him off to whatever destination his will or whim dictated.

Sesshomaru spoke: “Come, monk.” Miroku rose at once, bowed in deference to the child that was Sesshomaru’s in a way he increasingly hoped also to be, and came to stand at his master’s heels.

Rin rose, too. “Must you go, Sesshomaru-sama? You only just got back,” whined Rin. “Couldn’t you at least leave Hoshi-sama here? We were just getting to know each other.”

Sesshomaru looked down at the child, his face unreadable. “Stay with Jaken, Rin. I will return soon.”

Rin, again, reacted immediately to Sesshomaru’s authoritative tone. She nodded and ran off to where Jaken awaited her. Miroku stood, waiting with baited breath for whatever command his demon lord might give.

Sesshomaru hesitated. He could feel the monk breathing behind him, smell his sweat. A desire to be ruled breathed from his every pore. No, this was not like it was with Rin, nor Jaken, nor the others for whom he had unsheathed Tenseiga and invoked its power. The monk was projecting something the others did not. He felt the same undesirable and undesired urge to protect, but more: Rin needed rescue and shelter; Jaken had always wished only to follow him. Their needs irked but did not compel. This monk was different. His desire for Sesshomaru’s protection was more complex and most unwelcome. Because it offered the quickest means to ridding himself of this unwanted itch that he would not allow himself the curiosity to scratch, he turned his back to Miroku and demanded he climb on. He would sniff out Inuyasha and his companions’ current whereabouts this very night.