Work Text:
Obticeō
(v.) I am silent
Soft murmuring reaches his ears, drawing his sleepy mind back from the darkness of his dream. He can recognize Sango’s voice, not far on his right, and InuYasha’s gruff rumble on his left. They seem to be arguing, though his hazy mind cannot grasp what is being said.
His head is pounding and his throat hurts, a dull throbbing sensation, still clouded by sleep. When did he fall asleep? He can’t remember, no matter how hard he tries. But he is certain that they did not stop to set up camp. Then what happened? Slightly turning his head, a sharp pain shoots through his neck and throat, making him wince.
“Don’t move your head too much, Hōshi-sama.” Sango is next to him, her warm hand resting on his cheek. He looks at her, slightly startled when he notices the concern in her eyes.
He opens his mouth to ask her what happened, but no sound comes out. Tears gather in the Taijiya’s soft brown eyes as she gently places a finger on his lips, shaking her head ever so slightly.
“You… were hurt,” she tells him, eyes dropping to his still aching throat, “By a Neko Yōkai… their claws hit your neck, scratching you pretty badly...”
He closes his eyes, remembering the pain soaring through him as those sharp claws bit through flesh, tearing it away, leaving hot blood in their wake. He remembers clutching his throat, hearing the cat demon’s maniacal laughter… then, everything turns black.
When he looks up again, tears are rolling down Sango’s cheeks and he reaches up, gently swiping them away. He smiles at her, trying to tell her that it’s alright, that she doesn’t have to cry, that he’ll be fine, but still no sound leaves his throat, except of a strange gurgle, that makes her only cry even harder.
He understands now what she tried to tell him, what she just couldn’t say. He lost his voice. Those claws took it and he won’t get it back. He sighs, closing his mouth, gently stroking the Taijiya’s cheek. So what if he lost his voice? He is still alive. It will be alright; they are still all together. Except for a minor inconvenience, nothing has changed.
Or so he thinks.
It takes him almost a week of rest until Kaede-sama deems him well enough for travel. She has been the one caring for his wound, healing it as well as possible. It has closed at least, leaving only four dark red scars on his pale skin, reaching from right under his left jaw to the middle of the right side of his neck.
A very clear reminder on what has happened. But still, he is alive and feeling well, thanks to Kaede-sama’s treatment. And when she pronounces him well enough to continue their travels, he is more than happy to continue, hoping for a bit of their normal madness. However, it never comes.
There is still a lot of madness, more than one could need in just one life – it is the normalcy his misses. Ever since he was injured, his friends treat him… differently. Like he is made of glass, threatening to crack and break any moment. As if he were a fragile porcelain doll.
At first, he doesn’t really mind that much; it is nice having someone who cares enough about him to worry like that, after all. But after a few weeks, his appreciation turns into annoyance. Oh, how he would love to shout at them to stop acting like that, to stop tip-toeing around him – Yet he can’t. His voice is gone and it seems as if it took his former relationship with his friends with it.
He huffs, his Shakujō clinking softly with every step as he follows the others. Is it really too much to wish for them to just treat him normally? To not turn into another daily reminder of how his life has changed? It is hard enough, and even after a few weeks he is still struggling sometimes, not yet completely accustomed to his new situation.
But he’s learning, adjusting. He has taken to using gestures, writing down complicated topics or just mouthing simple words. It’s not perfect, but he manages – as a short encounter with another traveller has proven. His friends however… they try too hard. Especially the girls. Mostly the girls.
Kagome, kind as she is, is also way too stubborn, clinging to her own idea of what is best for him. So she always tries to cheer him up, even when he is not down; all the while trying very hard not to mention his ‘condition’. It’s rather nerve-wrecking, but she doesn’t take no, so he just smiles and bears it.
And Sango… she really makes him feel as if she believes him to be vulnerable and fragile, her hand not even twitching when his own roams her backside. It’s not that he likes being slapped by her – but he misses it. He enjoys flirting with her, enjoys the slight danger it poses, especially when his hand starts wandering. To him, it is even worth the risk of having her hand imprinted on his stinging cheek. But now, it’s just another piece of normalcy which didn’t come back.
He can’t really fault the males, though. Shippō tries his best to be a good companion, even though he sometimes seems to be overwhelmed, opting to just start another fight with InuYasha over some minor issue. And InuYasha… Well, he does what he usually can do best and mostly ignores the whole problem, going on as always. Miroku is thankful for that, until the Hanyō says something Kagome deems inappropriate to say in his proximity, making a fuss.
Just like now, even though he can’t even say what it is about this time. He didn’t listen, too caught up in his own thoughts. He raises an eyebrow as he turns to Sango with a questioning look, silently asking whether she gathered the problem. But he only receives a shrug and a strained smile, leaving him just as nonplussed as before. He heaves another sigh, the umpteenth on this day, and shakes his head about the absurdity of it all.
Gripping his Shakujō a little tighter, he pushes past his friends, opting to really ignore them for once, not wanting to deal with another fight and the inevitable ‘Osuwari’, which is sure to follow – the loud bump following his departure just confirming his thought. Miroku winces, feeling bad for his friend; sometimes, he thinks, Kagome really exploits the power of those subjugation beads, showing her own immaturity.
“Hōshi-sama,” Sango’s voice is soft as she calls for him, breaking him out of his musings and making him turn around. He smiles at her, more out of habit than anything else and she smiles back, a sad look in those warm brown eyes. He hates having it directed at him, yet it has become a customary addition.
He tilts his head to the right side, looking at her quizzically, a little like InuYasha does when he is being overwhelmed by something he doesn’t quite understand. An adorable quirk, in Miroku’s opinion, one that makes the Hanyō almost seem cute. But it is easy to interpret, so he adapted it for when he needs to communicate with the others.
“Where are you-” She interrupts herself, shaking her head, and smiles at him apologetically. He forces himself to smile back at her, to not let it show how much it annoys him that they won’t talk to him normally. Instead, they have taken to asking solely yes or no questions, making him feel like a toddler who cannot yet understand more complicated queries.
Miroku doesn’t wait for her to rephrase her question, though. He taps the pad of his finger gently against his jaw, right beneath his ear, then looks pointedly at Kagome, who is still arguing with InuYasha. Even though ‘arguing’ is the wrong word – it takes two for an argument, after all. InuYasha, however, is still sitting on the ground, right next to where he must have landed when she sat him, and mutely stares up at her, his chin raised defiantly.
With a sigh, Miroku shakes his head about those two, suddenly only wishing for some peace and quiet, without the bickering, the screaming, the pity.
He turns away, his Shakujō clinking softly as he grips it harder and continues his way, leaving his friends behind him. He doesn’t even react when Sango calls for him once again, opting to just ignore her for once, pretending that he didn’t hear her. It’s petty, he knows as much, and he is certain that he’s hurting her, but right now, he just can’t bring himself to care. He needs a little time for himself, just a few precious moments of normalcy. And they just can’t seem to be able to provide that.
Before the Taijiya can stop him, he disappears into the woods, not even bothering where exactly he is going, as long as he can get some rest. His senses are set on InuYasha’s aura, gauging the distance he can bring between them without being too far away should he need help, yet still being sufficiently offside to be for himself for a while.
At first, he doesn’t want to go that far, instead just staying a little ahead of them. However, he can still hear them arguing behind him, catching little bits and pieces of their words and accusations. Hear how they are blaming each other of being insensitive – and being even more insensitive while doing so.
So before he even realizes it, he is already moving farther away, worming his way through the forest, sighing in relieve when he can’t hear them any longer. He continues moving, though, following an invisible path even he doesn’t know, distancing himself even more from the others.
His awareness returns only when the undergrowth starts to thin, his path leading up to a small yet welcoming clearing. InuYasha’s demonic presence is but a lingering shadow in the back of his mind, a way to guide him to them, once he is ready to put up with his friends again.
He shakes his head again, trying to get them from his mind, at least for the moment, only to freeze at the sudden feeling of being watched. He looks up to the clearing, only now realizing the rather strong Yōki in front of him. How did he not notice that sooner?
It is not completely unfamiliar, yet it takes him a moment to identify the demon it belongs to. For a moment he hesitates, playing with the thought of just returning to the others. But something inside of him urges him to go on, so he takes another step, and another, steadily entering the clearing.
His eyes don’t even have to roam the open space; they are almost immediately drawn to the proud figure comfortably sitting on the forest floor, back against the trunk of an old tree, pools of melted gold watching him intently.
Miroku stops a few feet away from the demon, whose gaze is following his every move, while still not reacting otherwise, his posture unchanged. Their eyes meet, just briefly, before he lets them drop, bowing courteously as way of greeting as well as showing his respect for the Demon Lord. He receives a small nod in return and he straightens again, not quite sure what to do next.
He should keep going, go past the mighty Yōkai, or turn around and find his way back to InuYasha and the others. Yet something urges him to stay, to sit down with the other for a little while if he allows it.
Before he can really think about it, he already opens his mouth, intent on asking whether it would be acceptable for him to take a seat, until he realizes the foolishness of it. With an audible clap, he closes his mouth again, shaking his head about himself, noticing yet again how hard it is to drop old habits.
“Sit down, monk, or leave. You are disturbing my quiet peace.” The cold, velvety voice draws him out of his thoughts, makes him look at the powerful demon once again. His face is calm, almost relaxed, and there is just a slight shimmer of annoyance in those beautiful eyes, but nothing to indicate immediate danger.
He ponders his choices for a short moment before deciding, rather quickly, that the other’s company might be exactly what he needs. With another slight bow as a means of thanking him, Miroku sits down across from the other man, leaning his back against a tree, almost mimicking the demon’s posture.
For a second, he asks himself how InuYasha would react to that, one of his pack enjoying his brother’s company. But then he shakes the thought off, deciding that it is none of their business whom he keeps quiet company. And the older Inu really doesn’t seem to mind; his eyes are closed, his head gently resting against the trunk, as he enjoys the rays of sunlight permeating the trees savouring their warmth on his skin.
Miroku smiles to himself, and, deciding to follow suit, closes his eyes as well. A soft breeze dances through the forest, makes the leaves rustle and ruffles his hair. Birds are chirping in the treetops, singing songs of joy. Sesshōmaru’s Yōki is filling the clearing, billowing around in calm waves, attesting to the relaxed state the demon is in. It wraps around him, makes him relax himself, feeling oddly calm and safe.
~*~
He opens his eyes as he feels the other relax, watching him sag against the tree a little more, as if some weight had been lifted, the furrow between his eyebrows now barely visible. With veiled curiosity he eyes the young monk, who is usually traveling with his annoyance of a brother.
He has to admit that he had been surprised when he had felt the human approach steadily, as if he didn’t even recognize his demonic presence until he reached the clearing. Even more surprising though, was the fact that his brother’s Yōki is almost too far away to be noticeable. Why would that runt let his monk, one of his pack, travel completely alone?
Given, the Western lands are less dangerous than the Eastern parts of the country, however, the number of demons lusting after a priest for dinner is still unsettlingly high. To let him wander alone like that, and what’s more, completely lost in thought… it is almost negligent. Not that he cares. It is none of his concern, after all, whether his brother’s pack lives or not. Yet he cannot help but wonder.
He lets his gaze wander, eyeing the monk sitting just a few feet away from him. He notes his posture, his slightly sagged shoulders, the light circles beneath his eyes. Something is odd about it, about him. He behaves differently than the few times he had met him. Usually, even when posed to fight and protect, he seemed to be quite polite, though sometimes a bit lecherous with pretty women. Yet he didn’t even greet him when he joined him, except for bowing – and even though it is unfortunately rather rare for a human to show him this much respect, it simply doesn’t feel right.
He doesn’t even know why it bothers him this much, after all, this human is not his responsibility. Yet he can’t shake this feeling of something being wrong with the priest. What happened to change the young man like that? It really shouldn’t bother him, but still it does. Did his brother really let someone harm one of his pack?
He has to swallow a low growl which is already building in his throat, not wanting to startle the weary human unnecessarily. It would be an annoyance should he feel threatened and his own calm evening would be ruined even more. However, the other seems to be more alert than he thought, his gaze shifting to him, worry apparent in those dark eyes. Yet he doesn’t speak up, just keeps looking at him questioningly, his head slightly tilted to the left.
Sesshōmaru raises an eyebrow at him, prompting him to ask his question, not quite sure what to expect. He did not, however, expect the young priest’s reaction. His lips part ever so slightly, already forming the first syllables, as he freezes completely. His eyes widen marginally in realization before turning into a mix of fury and sadness, his mouth closing again. He looks at him, almost apologetically, and shakes his head. What is that supposed to mean?
“You do not wish to ask this one your question?” he enquires softly, earning himself a sad smile and another shake of the head. He eyes the monk once again, more closely this time, only to discover the thin lines of skin marring his throat. Scars, his mind supplies, most likely from claws. All at once he realizes that the other man would surely like to ask his question, but is physically not able to do so anymore.
Before he can swallow the next growl, it has already escaped his throat, low and rumbling, making the human wince slightly and prompting him to lower his gaze, only to look up again with his snarled words.
“One should think this one’s useless half-brother would have the ability to protect his pack.” Abruptly he is met with dark, blazing eyes as the monk’s hands clench into fists, obviously angered by his declaration. Sesshōmaru raises an eyebrow, wondering how the other could be this upset about the truth and, moreover, still trying to defend the Hanyō. Which he was obviously trying to do, his mouth already open, his whole posture changed, showing his rather strong objection.
“You do not agree, then,” he muses, still uncomprehendingly eyeing the younger man. “However, are you not his pack?” He pauses long enough for the other to nod, affirming his question. “Then it is his responsibility to protect you.”
Once again the young priest glares at him, clearly upset with his view of the situation, even though he doesn’t see why that would be the case. Useless as he might be, InuYasha is still the alpha of their group, thus making it his duty to care for those weaker than him. Which includes all of the humans he somehow likes to travel with.
Come to think of it, Sesshōmaru never really bothered to understand human thoughts and behaviour. It didn’t concern him, so why should he care and waste his time on them?
Yet he is sitting there, with this human, and wonders why he seems to actually care about this one in a strange way. There just is something about this specific human that makes him care a little more than he usually does. And it is enough to make him despise his useless half-brother a little more than he normally does. But if he were to tell what this something is, he wouldn’t be able to answer.
The monk, Miroku, his mind supplies out of nowhere, eyes him; he can feel the gaze of those dark eyes burning on his skin. Somehow, it makes Sesshōmaru feel vulnerable, as if the young priest could see something with those pretty dark eyes, which one would only find in humans, he didn’t want to be seen.
He isn’t used to feeling vulnerable – not in a fight and certainly not in a conversation, the only exception being his mother. She has a talent for making him feel like a pup again, small and vulnerable. But that is his mother, not a human priest just barely grown-up. And yet, somehow, he doesn’t care all that much.
“I apologize. It wasn’t this one’s intention to anger you.” And it originally wasn’t his intention to apologize for stating his opinion; yet it just felt right at this moment. And looking at the human monk, it was the right decision as well.
His posture changes once again, becomes more relaxed as his eyes lose the angry glint, turning warm yet again. He briefly smiles at Sesshōmaru and tilts his head in thanks and understanding, before he leans back against the trunk, completely relaxed once more, obviously deciding to simply forget the past few minutes and Sesshōmaru’s rather strong reaction.
Sesshōmaru doesn’t understand the human sitting with him, but perhaps he doesn’t have to. So he just watches him and enjoys the calmness on the other’s face, even though he still would like to know what happened and why InuYasha didn’t properly protect one of his pack-mates. And perhaps he will learn of it on a later date – he even could send Jaken to gather information – so for now he will do what is brother obviously can’t: keeping quiet company.
He closes his eyes once more, mimicking the other, and listens to the even breathing, as he opts to ignore the voices barely reaching his ear, calling his current companion’s name. He will return the young priest later; for now, he just doesn’t want to deal with his brother and the girls. And the monk isn’t such bad company, after all.