Redemption

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha, etc. This story is for entertainment purposes only.

REDEMPTION

Summary: Specters of the past bring forth questions for the future. Can she save his soul, or will he wander forever in darkness?

WORDS

aniki - older brother
neko - cat

WARNING: Bad language and a rather casual disregard for the dead.

CHAPTER FOUR

Her head was hurting. It was pounding. No, kami, it was throbbing.

Ugh.

Lashes fluttering, Sango restlessly turned her head from side to side, trying to dislodge whatever it was that obscured her vision and pressed down on her temples. Hissing with pain, she suddenly blinked open her eyes, and nearly shrieked at the face that hovered so close to hers.

“You awake yet?”

Sango made an abortive attempt to strike out at the lecher, but her hands had been tied at the wrists, and the motion---and the searing pain that accompanied it---jarred her completely awake.

And to a complete recall of recent events.

Eyes wide, she shied away from the mercenary, who now sat back away from her, leaning against the weathered boards of the wooden wall behind him, and regarding her with some amusement in his too-blue eyes. The star-shaped cross on his forehead was dark as a dried bloodstain in the dim, shadow-cast light that surrounded them. Something tickled and scratched at her back, and Sango realized with a start that she was lying on straw, of all things, and that she was covered by a tattered---and rather smelly---blanket.

“Where am I?” She tried to demand, but her throat was too dry to get out more than a weak cough.

“Thirsty, huh?” Bankotsu extended a small wooden flask in her direction.

Sango stared at him.

Was he serious?

“Go on, take it. It’s just water, not poison or anything.” He seemed impatient with her reticence. He looked thoughtful for a moment, and slowly grinned as an idea occurred to him. “Heh---though that’s not such a bad idea. Be a good way to take an enemy out without him even knowing it was you.”

And that statement was supposed to reassure her HOW?

Nerves on edge, Sango used the rush of adrenalin his casual words gave her to boost herself up to an awkward position, sliding back away from him to the other side of the narrow room or whatever else this place was. Straw lay thick and musty across the dirt floor, and the smell was something she could not describe without wanting to gag. The heavy stench of pent-up animals hung in the air like a thick shroud, and she wandered suddenly if they were in some kind of stable or barn.

Leaning back against the creaky boards that made up the wall opposite his, she managed to drag the blanket with her, feeling somewhat vulnerable in just her rose-and-white yukata. Her hair hung thick and heavy down her back and shoulders, tangled with bits of straw and leaves. She stared at her captor with suspicion, not knowing what to say.

Bankotsu waggled the wooden bottle at her suggestively. “Well? Do you want a drink or not?”

He extended it towards her, and Sango, after a long, measuring look, swallowed against the dry soreness of her throat, and finally extended her bound hands to take it from him. But she instinctively reached with her right hand, and when Bankotsu dropped the solid weight into her palm, her fingers spasmed open with the agony that shot up her abused wrist from the movement. Lips whitening to keep back the cry of pain that threatened to emerge, Sango snatched back her hands, cradling her wrist in her lap and blinking back the blurred images that crowded the edges of her vision.

The dropped flagon rolled into the straw with rustling complaint. Something stamped in one of the other stalls on the far side of the low building.

“Huh. Forgot about your wrist.” Bankotsu shrugged and easily retrieved the fallen bottle by the leather thong attached to the top. With a deft twist, he uncorked the simple wooden vessel and surged up to lean on one knee so he could offer it to her.

Expression tight, Sango shied away from the guy’s proximity. Was he crazy?

Bankotsu sighed with impatience, his blue eyes narrowing. “Do you want a drink or not?”

Trying to swallow back the dryness from her throat, Sango finally gave in. Warily, she nodded, and Bankotsu tipped the bottle up to her lips, which she obediently parted. The first splash of fetid water was pure ambrosia to her dry throat, and Sango hastily gulped down as much as she could of the heaven-sent liquid, lest he take it back from her, and nearly ended up choking on her own greed as a result.

“Easy, now!” Bankotsu chided her with a grin, withdrawing the bottle. His free hand came up to lightly cup her shoulder, helping to steady her as she coughed weakly. Sango twitched at the unwanted contact, but he ignored the movement, instead offering her the bottle again.

Once she had drunk her fill, he removed both himself and the bottle, much to Sango’s relief. What was with him, anyway? He was acting like they were just visiting like any old friends.

The thought made her stiffen. Was he trying to disarm her, then? Hoping that she might relax her guard and fall for some stupid trick he thought might work on her? Did he think himself so charming and her so stupid as to fall for something like that?

Or maybe he was just crazy.

She liked that notion even less. Drawing her knees up beneath the smelly blanket, she stared at him, hard.

Bankotsu scratched the back of his neck with irritation. “What?”

“What game are you trying to play? It won’t work.” Sango’s voice had an edge to it.

“Game?” Bankotsu looked sincerely puzzled. He HAD to be crazy.

“Why are you being…nice…to me?”

“Nice?” Bankotsu didn’t seem to like that word all too much. He even grimaced. “I’m just making sure that you’re okay. I’m not being NICE.”

Sango just looked at him, not knowing what to say to that statement.

“While you’re my guest, I have to take care of you.” Bankotsu insisted, and seemed to actually believe it.

Sango sputtered. “GUEST?”

“Well, you are my guest, aren’t you?”

Could he be, as Kagome was often wont to say, for REAL?

“I don’t exactly remember coming here by choice.” Sango managed to grit out, her brown eyes hard.

“Well, now, that’s true, but I don’t see why it would make any kind of difference.” Bankotsu shrugged, unconcerned.

“You don’t?” Sango could only look astonished.

“How am I supposed to treat you then?” He demanded, finally getting irritated with her astonishment.

Chagrined, Sango could only stare at him. She would be an idiot if she were to tell him what most kidnappers did with their captives. Should she start by telling him he was supposed to lock her up somewhere damp, dark and disgusting and throw away the key? That he was supposed to starve her to death and not care if she was thirsty or not?

Of course not.

But how could he, bloodthirsty, thrice-living mercenary and self-proclaimed killer of over a thousand men, be so naïve? It made no sense!

Cocking a brow at her, Bankotsu actually managed a charming grin. “I’m not all bad, you know. Eventually, I’m going to have to kill you, but it doesn’t mean we have to spend an unpleasant time together NOW, does it?”

Sango’s mouth fell open, unable to think of a single thing to say to that sentiment.

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“Damn it! How am I supposed to find them when I can’t get a trace of their scent anywhere?” Inuyasha snarled, white claws curling into a fist of impotent rage.

“Oh, Sango.” Kagome buried her head against Shippou, who was cradled in her arms, crying.

“K-Kagome…Sango will be all right, w-won’t she?” Shippou sniffled, the tears leaking down reddened cheeks. Shippou was terrified of what Bankotsu might do to the taijiya. No one knew what that madman was capable of, and all feared for Sango’s safety, though no one spoke their worry aloud.

“We have to find them, Inuyasha.” Miroku’s hands tightened on his ringed staff.

“Well, where the hell am I supposed to start, monk?” Inuyasha turned on him, all of his thwarted frustration finally finding an outlet. “This place reeks of Bankotsu and Sango, but there’s no trail leading OUT of it!”

Kirara made a low noise in the back of her throat, her small, dejected posture speaking all too loudly of her sadness and loss. She was hurt the most by Sango’s sudden disappearance, and even Kagome could not comfort the two-tailed neko. Kirara had spent the better part of the night hunting through the nearby woodlands, even taking up into the sky to scout out possible directions Bankotsu might have gone.

They were reasonably sure that the resurrected mercenary had taken Sango, rather than killing her out-right. For one, there was no blood-scent in the clearing, and second, why would he take her somewhere else just to kill her, when he could just do it here and save himself the time and effort? No, they all could agree that Bankotsu had taken Sango captive, and they were all pretty sure why.

“If he’s hoping to lure me to some place of his choosing so that he can fight me on his own terms, than why the hell didn’t he leave me a trail I could FOLLOW?” Inuyasha voiced all their frustration. “He can’t be that stupid, can he?”

“Bankotsu might have been naïve in the past, Inuyasha, but he was never stupid.” Miroku said, his blue eyes troubled. “Remember that he was the leader of the Band of Seven. He managed to win the loyalty of a pack of bloodthirsty killers who all called him their ‘Older Brother’, even though he was younger than many of them.”

“Not all their loyalty.” Inuyasha replied darkly. “Remember Renkotsu.”

Kagome shuddered, hugging Shippou tighter with renewed fear. She had never, ever, thought to see any of the Band of Seven alive again. Could that mean more of them had been resurrected than just Bankotsu?

“Inuyasha…” She said slowly. “Do you think any of the other members of the Band of Seven could be alive again? Resurrected? Like Bankotsu?”

“I don’t know, Kagome.” Inuyasha’s answer was grave. A clawed hand came to rest on the hilt of his Tetsusaiga, drawing comfort from the fanged gift of his father as he had always done in times of uncertainty.

“But Naraku is dead, Kagome!” Shippou wailed, scared by an even greater threat. “Isn’t he?”

“Yes, Shippou, he is.” Miroku said, his bead-wrapped palm clenching into a fist. “I would know if Naraku were ever resurrected. For right now, we must assume that only Bankotsu has come back to life, until and unless we see proof otherwise. But he seemed to be acting alone last night, attacking you and Sango like he did. That is not like him---at least not from what I know of him.”

“Yeah.” Inuyasha slowly agreed with great reluctance, looking at Kirara’s sad, glowing eyes. “But that still doesn't tell us where he took Sango.”

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“Sorry, I don’t have anything better to offer you.” Bankotsu said with a rueful grin, holding out half the dried jerky in his possession. “I have some dried apricots, though.”

She was giving him that look again. That look that said she thought he was crazy. Strange how expressive her eyes were, once you thought about it. She was pretty good at keeping her facial expressions pretty closed, but she hadn’t quite mastered the knack with her eyes---which also happened to be a pretty shade of brown. Like dark mahogany. Or maybe like powdered cinnamon. They seemed to change tints with her moods.

Right now, they were pretty dark. Which meant she was wary of him again. Man, she was strung as tight as a bow. She should just relax, couldn’t she see he was trying to take care of her with what little he had to offer? She had acted all weird when he explained it to her, and she had never really answered his question when he asked her what he was supposed to be doing with her.

Bankotsu frowned. He had never taken a hostage before, never even thought about it, really. The situation had never come up. True, he and his men had been hired in the past to abduct this daimyo lord or that, but they had always done the job and handed them over, not caring what the hell their employer did with the goods---or people---afterwards. Even then, they hadn’t done it all that much. Their primary skills were in how good they were at killing, and they had been VERY good at that.

So how the hell was he supposed to know how to treat a hostage? It was not like it had ever come up before. The only people he had ever hung around for more than a day or two were his brothers, and he had always taken care of them, saw to their needs, saw that they were fed and relatively content. A unhappy, hungry man didn’t fight all that well, and besides, he was their ‘aniki’, after all. Who else would have cared for them, if not him?

So what else was he supposed to do but treat this ninja-girl like he would one of his own men? Of course, she wasn’t one of his men, and he knew that. She was a girl, and he could admit he didn’t know very much about women in general. Didn’t really care to, truth be told. He had never seen much use for them, past a quick tumble or two. Most of them were too weak to really fight all that good, and how could he ever respect that?

So she was his hostage. Okay, well, he didn’t want her to slow him down or get on his nerves with a weepy woman’s complaints. He still needed to think of a good enough spot to take that stupid hanyou out, and until he decided, he would have to keep the girl with him. So maybe she didn’t really choose to be his ‘guest’, but hell, that was what she was.

He was getting irritated with her again. It was that look she kept giving him. He had thought about waiting until morning to go out to the village to get a few things he could sure use, but now seemed like as good a time as any. Maybe if she spent some time alone she would start appreciating what he was trying to do for her. It wasn’t as if she could go anywhere, and maybe if she became resigned to that fact, she would quit acting so strung out and start to relax.

Decision made, he abruptly stood up. He hadn’t thought she could get any more rigid, but she had proved him wrong. She looked so stiff that he was afraid she would shatter if he so much as looked cross-eyed at her.

Heaving a gusty sigh, he dropped the small pouch of food in the straw in front of her, placing the jerky on top so she would know what it was. It would be up to her to feed herself. He wasn’t about to force-feed her dried apricots. She’d choke, and then where would he be?

Picking up his Banryuu, he saw her tense even more. Amazing. He could imagine hearing her bones nearly creaking she was so still. One of the horses in the other stalls snorted at the tension that fairly crackled in the air. That had the girl shying back like she was shot. Man, she was twitchy. Typical woman, scared of their own shadow.

“I’m going out.” He said, impatient. “Don’t think you can escape, however. I’m putting a barrier over this place, and you shouldn’t even try getting past it. It burns.”

With that fond farewell, he sauntered out the door.

This barn was perfect as a hideout, as least temporarily. The goats and horses, not to mention the chickens, gave off enough of a stench that he didn’t think that half-dog would be able to sniff their location out. The peasant-family who owned this place weren’t alive to object to his use of it, and no one else had come around to investigate what might have happened to them, so he thought they would remain undetected, at least for the night.

Tilting his sword up on his shoulder, Bankotsu carefully pried loose one of the three Jewel shards that now decorated the half-moon end of the hilt. These little fuchsia beauties had proved their worth time and time again. There was a convenient splintered knot in the door he had just slammed closed behind him, and he carefully wedged the diamond-cut shard into the gap. A sullen glow rose over the wooden structure, incasing it in a bubble of protection that few would be able to see, but all would feel as a sharp, burning sensation if they tried to cross it.

“That’ll hold you for a while.” He said with satisfaction, turning to go.

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Sango wasn’t about to sit by and take his word for it. Once the door to the barn slammed shut, she crawled across the straw and stuck her head around the stall’s partition. Counting breaths, she waited until she heard the fall of footsteps fade before lurching to her feet.

Her ankle had swollen even more since last night…or was it yesterday? She couldn’t put much weight on it, but she wasn’t about to let that stop her. Limping her way across the low building, she glanced into each stall, looking for anything she might be able to use as a weapon. Her nose wrinkled at the smell as she neared the goat-pen. How long had it been since these animals had been shut up in here? The stench of acquired manure was strong, though the three nannies who naahed at her sudden appearance didn’t seem to be standing in their own. There were two horses kept in separate stalls at the end, old nags who simply swiveled their ears at her. One of them was covered in an old blanket like the one she had woken up with. Both horses had plenty of hay in their feedboxes, so maybe it wasn’t that long since someone had cared for them…

With quick glimpses, she ascertained that there was nothing left in the barn except for her and the animals. Hoping to find even a short stick of wood to use as a cudgel, she had foolishly leaned past a small partition and got pecked for her pains by the offended chicken who roosted there. Muttering darkly under her breath about how good chicken was when cooked fresh, Sango lurched back away from the evil bird’s nest and nearly fell over something that rolled under her foot.

Instinctively, she tried to catch her balance with her left ankle, and that was how she ended up on her bottom. Gritting her teeth, both at the sharp stab of agony sent throbbing up her leg and at her own clumsiness, she groped for the damn object with her bound hands to throw it, needing a release for her frustration.

But, blinking, she smiled at her luck. It wasn’t much, just a rusty bit that had been probably sitting here for years, abandoned and forgotten. But it was better than nothing, and a solid weight in her palm. She could easily hide it in her fist, and that would add quite a bit of impact. Now, she would just have to find a way to use it…

But better still would be to get the hell out of here before Bankotsu came back. With that thought in mind, she lurched back up on her feet and made her way to the door. She wasn’t about to just open it and find herself face to face with that lunatic, though, so she used a convenient knothole in the wooden boards beside it to peer out.

And jerked back at the strange sight that met her eye. Frowning, she looked again, and grimaced. Sure enough, there was a fuchsia-tinged barrier swirling sullenly just outside. It reminded her of the one Naraku had often used, though there was no purple or blackened streaks running through the pink surface. Biting her lip, Sango thought rapidly about her options.

Maybe she could find a weak point, if she were able to see more of it. Slipping her rusty prize into a fold of her sash, she twisted her hands around inside the restraining rope so that her sprained right one would not get it her way. Extending her fingers, she gently, but firmly pushed on the wood of the door to open it a crack.

And snatched back her hand with a curse.

The door had BURNED.

Hissing at this new pain, which was sending fresh throbs up her arms and making her break out into a cold sweat, Sango was finally ready to give up---temporarily, anyways. Lurching back to her own stall, she dropped down on the blanket with a defeated sigh. Too tired to even pull it up around her---even if either of her hands were able to do something so simple right now---she simply laid her head on her knees and waited for Bankotsu’s inevitable return.

So much for being independent. Now would have been a GREAT time to ask for some help from one of her friends.

*Kagome…Inuyasha…Miroku…where are you?*

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He had to step over a dead body to get to the jug he wanted. Ignoring the dried blood on the small table, he hefted the jug and grinned when he heard the slosh of liquid within. Good. He could use some sake. Spying a few other things lying around the small hut, he quickly added them to the knapsack slung over his shoulder. Jug in hand, he nonchalantly stepped back over the corpse that lay across the doorway and exited the cot.

It was only a few yards to the barn, and he casually dropped jug and bundle to remove the Jewel shard from the crack in the door. The barrier slowly dissolved as he carefully placed it back in his halberd’s hilt. Picking up his loot, he kicked open the door.

It was dark inside. The sun was setting in a blaze of ocher splendor, lighting up in reddened flame against the clouds that curled lazily beneath it. He had nipped a simple rush-light saucer from the hut though---the dead peasant wouldn’t be needing it, that was for sure---so he wouldn’t have to stumble around in the dark. Dropping his loot again, he pulled the simple brass saucer free and used flint to spark a flame on the wick.

One of the goats nagged at him as the orangey-glow bounced shadows around the small space. One of the horses whickered uneasily, its eyes rolling back. Ignoring them, Bankotsu stalked toward the last stall, where he had left the girl. Funny, he hadn’t heard one peep from her. Suspicious, he carried light and halberd to the back of the barn, where he stopped and stared down at her.

She sat against the wall where he had left her, though on the blanket and not under it. She had drawn her knees up to her chest, and had her head resting on them. The loose tangles of her hair covered her back and shoulders and hid her face from view. He should have been wary, what was she hiding from him? But something in the defeated line of her slumped shoulders made him think she wasn’t up to no good, but that something about her wasn’t okay.

Damn. He hoped she wasn’t getting sick or something.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked her. She didn’t answer, didn’t even raise her head up to acknowledge him. She wasn’t sleeping, he could tell by the uneven tone of her breathing. Damn, he hoped she wasn’t crying.

Grimacing at the thought, he carefully leaned his companion against the far wall and stuck the rush-light on top of the low partition. Crossing his arms over his chest, he stared down at her, unsure what to do. So he did what he had. “Are you okay?”

Silence.

“Hey.” He nudged her with one foot to get her attention.

“Leave me alone.”

Well, at least she wasn’t dead. He wasn’t about to, though, not when something definitely had to be wrong. And he was a persistent bastard when he cared to be.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.” She bit that out while keeping her head down. Bankotsu frowned, suspicious.

“Are you crying?” Ugly thought.

She finally looked up, her face pale, angry, but dry. “No, I’m not. Can’t you just leave me alone?”

“No.” He grinned at her, glad to see she wasn’t all drippy-eyed. “You don’t seem okay.” He eyed her speculatively, and noticed that her bare arms in the short-sleeved yukata were goose-bumped. He also noticed she hadn’t touched the food he’d left her.

“Why didn’t you eat while I was gone?” He asked with irritation, having thought she would.

She put her head back down on her knees with a sigh. “I’m not hungry.”

“You’re cold.” He replied.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not---or why are you shivering?” Man, she was stubborn! Did he have to order her to take care of herself? This was more trouble than it was worth, but he had often dealt with ornery men who thought they knew better than he did what was best for them.

“I’m fine.”

So they were back to that, were they? Wanting to growl, Bankotsu glared instead. He wasn’t about to spend all night arguing with her. And he wasn’t about to let her think she had won the argument by simply ignoring her. If she wanted to act as stubborn as a mule, then he would just have to treat her as he would a mule and just make her do what she didn’t want to.

Quick as a flash, he grabbed her dangling wrists by the rope he had loosely, if securely, tied around them, intending to pull her to her feet and off the horse-blanket so that he could toss it over her. But she let out a short cry of pain, and he immediately stopped tugging. Cradling her bound wrists, she said nothing, but the shivering got worse.

Huh.

Kneeling down in front of her, he gently grabbed for her hands again. She tried to tug them out of his, but he was stronger. Firmly, he pulled them over so he could examine them in better light. A sprained wrist shouldn’t have made her so damn twitchy. He had to suck in his breath, though, when he saw the raw burns on her left palm.

Ow. That had to hurt.

“You tried to escape, didn’t you?” He shook his head at her. Stubborn wench. Well, he had warned her and it was her own damn fault if she decided not to listen. Still, that had to hurt like a bitch, and she was just damn lucky he knew how to treat minor skin burns like this. Renkotsu had gotten quite a few of them before he had learned to be more careful with his fire-water…

The thought of that traitorous bastard made him scowl and drop her hands back in her lap. Standing, he ignored the stupid girl to go and retrieve the loot he had left at the door. Dragging the sake jug with him, he pilfered through the first while taking a good swig of the second. The sake was pretty hard, and it burned down the back of his throat. But it distracted him enough to be able to deal with the stubborn wench, and having found the small herbal pack he had got from the village, he was able to stalk back over to her in a more equitable mood.

Not that she didn’t try and ruin it again.

Flopping down in front of her with pack in lap, he tried to grab her hands again. She tried to avoid his touch. Eyes darkening, he finally got a hold of her left wrist, and pulled. She glared at him, her lips set in a thin white line. He ignored her to pull a small dagger from where it lay hidden in the back of his obi. She stiffened, and tried to wrench her hands free.

“Damn it, wench! Do you want me to help you or not?” He finally growled at her, blue eyes glaring into dark brown. “That burn is raw. You want to get it infected?”

She looked as if she might be entertaining the thought.

“Won’t work.” He said, suddenly feeling more amused than angry. Wow, she was stubborn---almost as stubborn as he was. That was pretty impressive.

He grinned at her. She gave him that ‘you’re crazy’ look.

Quickly using her distraction as a diversion, he cut through the rope binding her wrists and sheathed his dagger back in his obi with a deft twist. She now looked bewildered, and he used her continued confusion to force open her fingers by pressing on the pulse-joint in her left wrist. Examining her opened palm in the sputtering candlelight, the burn wasn’t as bad as he thought, and it would probably scab over in a few days. Still, it must hurt like a son of a bitch.

She stayed quiet, much to his relief, though her expression was dark. He was lucky glares couldn’t kill, he’d have been roasted alive by now. Shrugging, he filched the burn ointment from the herbal pack in his lap. Opening the jar one-handed was awkward, but he didn’t want to let go of her hand. Scooping up a big dollop of the stinky yellow cream with a finger, he gently smoothed it over the raw edges on her palm.

She jerked in surprise, and then suddenly seemed to relax the tiniest bit as the cooling aloe in the ointment numbed away the pain. He hid a grin, knowing how good that stuff was for getting rid of the hurt, even if it would later turn itchy and make you want to scratch the hell out of it as the skin healed itself beneath the dried goop. With generous abandon, he smoothed the thick cream across her palm and fingers, being careful to keep his touch light and gentle against the tender skin. He didn’t want her socking him in the head with her free fist as Renkotsu had once done when he’d been too rough that one time down in Kawachi province…

She had stilled beneath his gentle ministrations, and she looked confused, her brown eyes lightening to a mix of cinnamon and hazel. At least she had stopped glaring daggers at him. Ignoring her, he pulled free some clean bandaging from the well-stocked pack and used it to wrap her palm and fingers into a mitten that would keep movement to a minimum but left her thumb and index fingers free so she could still use her hand, if carefully.

Now that he was done with the left, he turned his attention to the right. He had noted the bruised swelling of the wrist yesterday, which is why he had bound her wrists not as taut as he might have. But she had acted as if the pain were still sharp, when it should have been receding a little by now. She allowed him to take hold of her lower right arm without comment, though she hissed as he extended the last two fingers of her hand, twitching her wrist with the movement.

She had a bone bruise then, on the outer edge. The bruising was dark there, an angry purple-black stain flowering against the yellow-green of the older bruise. She had fallen on it, maybe, bruising it further. Maybe when she had tried to touch the barrier and got burned for her pains. Smirking with superiority at the girl’s stubborn stupidity, he bandaged it much as he had the other, though with tighter bindings, so that it would heal all the faster.

He finally let her have her hands back and she just let them drop in her lap. Her expression was bland, but her eyes spoke volumes. She didn’t know what to say, and was giving him that wondering, you-must-be-crazy look. It made him grin as he casually tapped her bare knee with a finger.

“Foot.” He explained as she stared at him.

He had to sigh when the stubborn wench didn’t move.

Curving his thumb and finger over her knee, he squeezed on the pulse-points and she nearly toppled over as her leg automatically jumped in reaction. Jerking her leg forward, he studied the bruise on her ankle as her face went through several interesting shades of blush. The ninja girl had surprisingly small feet, in comparison to the rough men he had tended in the past, with a high arch and hardened heel from walking around so much. Flexing the ankle, he didn’t think it needed binding, and shrugged.

“Seems okay.” He said, wrapping up the medical kit. Getting up, he went over to the abandoned knapsack and rummaged through it. Pulling a second satchel from the bag, he hauled the wine jug with him and settled back down in front of her.

She had drawn her knees up again, resting her bandaged hands on her knees and just staring at him. She wasn’t one for much conversation, was she? But then, she could be hungry. He certainly was, and he, at least, had eaten earlier in the day.

Undoing the knotted ties, he pulled open the sack and hauled out the carefully wrapped wooden bowl of steamed rice. He wasn’t much for cooking, and although it would be cold now, it was at least edible---and better than dried jerky. The peasant’s wife had added some bits of vegetable and fish to it, assuring him it could be easily reheated. He wasn’t about to waste time starting a fire, even if he was stupid enough to kindle one in the middle of a barn full of thick straw. The girl would just have to eat it cold.

The old woman had even included some simple chopsticks, and Bankotsu fiddled with them before selecting a particular piece of baked salmon and pulling it free with the motion of long practice. Holding it out to her, he waited for her open her mouth so he could pop it in.

She just stared at him.

Damn, but she was slow.

“Are you going to eat or what?” He scowled at her, finally growing impatient.

“What do you think---”

*Ha!*

He quickly cut her off by shoving the fish into her opened mouth. Her eyes widened as her mouth snapped shut. But she swallowed his offering and he speared a second, ready for her to open back up and start protesting.

But she didn’t. Instead they sat there, with her glare finally making him glare, and not getting much anywhere with all that glaring going on.

“I want to eat too, you know.” He growled.

“Go ahead.” She replied, too quick for him to shove another bite between her lips, which were now pressed in a thin, white line of anger.

“You want me to open your jaw and just cram it in?” He asked tightly, blue eyes dangerous. She was more stubborn than anyone he had ever met.

“Try it---muphm.”

He managed to get her that time, and she had to chew for a few seconds before she could swallow the large piece. He took a good bite himself, and then offered her a third.

Her eyes were fairly spitting at him. Between gritted teeth, she hissed, “I can feed myself.”

Bankotsu cocked a black brow at her. “How?”

Her bandaged hands twitched and she looked ready to kill.

Huh. Kinda sexy, that.

Putting the chopsticks down, Bankotsu hauled the sake jug over so he could take a good swig. Wiping his mouth dry, he grinned. “Do you want to argue all night or are you going to let me take care of you so that we can go in the morning? Because we aren’t going anywhere, ninja, until you eat.”

Her nostrils flared, but he could already tell he had won when she bit her lip and frowned. Her eyes dropped to rest on the sake jug he held in his hand and she finally said, “As long as I can get a drink of that.”

Bankotsu shrugged and helpfully tilted the heavy jug toward her.

Dark eyes flashing, she muttered under her breath, “I’m going to need it.”

It was Bankotsu’s turn to frown.

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A/N: I loved writing this scene, but this is where I might have made Bankotsu OOC. I have only seen up to episode 120, but it seems that he is quite naïve in many areas. I can’t see him being stupid---childish certainly, and cocky as all hell, but there is something seemingly innocent about him when he was touched by Jakotsu’s generosity in episode 118/119 and angrily told Renkotsu that he was not like him in 120. For a mercenary, he seems to have a loose moral code of honor. We’ll see how that plays out, as Sango’s sense of honor is quite high.

Oh---time for a shameless plug---I also finally posted my Kouga fan-art on mediaminer (dot) org. Just a black and white scribble of Kouga while I was chasing plot bunnies for one of my other fics, “The Source of Solace.” You can see it (if you want) at http://www.mediaminer.org/fanart/view.php/187368.

Fate