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Guilty Hero

Chapter 4: Fault

Over the course of the next four days, Miroku, with Sango hovering anxiously behind him, tried phoning Inu-Yasha’s home at least twice a day, each time receiving the message that the number was unavailable.  It confused and worried the pair of them, but both were still too frightened of Inu-Yasha’s terrible temper to actually visit him at his apartment.  At least, until the end of the week with no successful phone calls.

“Same thing…” Miroku said tiredly, hanging up his phone and swiveling around in his chair to look at Sango.  “That woman’s voice over the dial tone is beginning to grate on my nerves.”

“Why do you think he’s disconnected his phone line?”  Chewing on her thumbnail in worried thought, Sango began to pace.  “He must still be absolutely furious with us to prevent us from even calling him…  Do you think he cut his cord?”

Miroku shrugged, trying to remain positive.  “Perhaps.  But remember when we got a hold of him four days ago?  He sounded like he’d been drinking; he might have just tripped over the cord and accidentally unplugged it.”

“And has yet to plug it back in after four days?”

“Well…”  With a frown, he fell silent, unable to come up with an answer.

Nodding at his lack of response, Sango stated something that had obviously been on her mind for several days.  “I guess he really did mean it when he resigned from the Order.  Cutting his phone line is his way of showing us that he doesn’t want contact.”

Miroku sighed.  “We haven’t filed his paperwork yet, have we?”

“No.  I want to give him the option of coming back for as long as possible.”

“Good.  We need to keep that open.  I’m sure you’ve noticed the strange influx of demons making their appearance known in the city?  We need more fighters than ever nowadays.  I had to give Kohaku a third assignment.  Hell, I even gave that practically useless wolf Royakan the task of removing a demon frog from the sewers that had gorged itself so much that it blocked a whole pipe.”  He glanced over at Sango with a slight twinkle in his eye.  “I didn’t think Kohaku would enjoy that job so much.”

Receiving only  a glare in reply, he cleared his throat and continued.  “My point being, even a drunk like Inu-Yasha can be put to work.  We could use his help right now.”

“You’re just talking from a business standpoint,” Sango replied harshly.  “What about as his friend?  Don’t you want to try and get at least on speaking terms?  How can we do that when his phone is broken?”

Sighing heavily, he got to his feet and snatched his jacket off the back of his chair.  “There are other ways of getting in touch with him, my dear.  Get your coat; we’re going to his apartment.”

Though almost angry at him before, she shied away now, quite nervous at the thought of actually seeing the demon in person.  “But—“

“We can’t give up, Sango,” Miroku gently interrupted.  “If it makes you feel better, I’m nervous myself.  But we can’t just leave things like this.  Inu-Yasha has no life without the Order; without you and me.  He’s going to find himself in a world of hurt if we can’t convince him to return.”  Holding his hand out to her, he gestured at the door.  “Come on.  Let’s go visit our dear misguided puppy.”

The drive to the demon’s apartment was spent in silence.  Sango was gnawing her lip in anxiety while Miroku tried to appear calm and relaxed, hoping to soothe his nervous partner, though he was not at ease himself.  He had managed to help her overcome her fear, but had yet to completely get over his own.  Inu-Yasha’s last words to them continued to play over and over in his head: “Don’t think you’ll be welcome here again.”   Would Inu-Yasha follow through with that threat? 

The drive ended quickly enough, and the two worried companions emerged from the car and climbed the stairs to the seventh floor, standing outside the door to the demon’s apartment.  It was eerily quiet; not a sound could be heard from inside.  However, with an encouraging nod from Miroku, Sango rapped sharply on the door, receiving silence as a reply.  When it refused to open after a few moments, she tried again, louder.

Finally, after almost two minutes of standing on the landing, Miroku suggested hesitantly, “He might be asleep.  Let’s go in and see.  You know he never locks the door.”

Sango swallowed hard.  Honestly, she wanted to turn right around and go back outside and wait until she knew that Inu-Yasha was no longer angry.  Her conscience ached after what they had done to him, but she had seen his fury before, and the mere thought was enough to make her heart quail.  Still, Inu-Yasha was a friend, though he no longer believed that, and it was against her moral fiber to try and ignore her awful deed without accepting the consequences.  Squaring her shoulders, she gripped the doorknob and flung open the door.  “Inu-Yasha, we’re coming in!”

The first thing they noticed upon entering the apartment was how stale the air smelled.  It was as though nobody had moved around inside for days.  Then, as they stepped out of the foyer and into the living room, two things they saw made them start to worry.  First, Inu-Yasha was not sprawled out on the couch, as was his usual position when they made a house call; in fact, he was nowhere to be seen.  Second…

“Four,” Miroku said quietly, lifting up an empty liquor bottle from the coffee table where three other bottles in identical conditions were scattered haphazardly nearby.  “Four bottles of booze in seven days.  This is not good.”

“Five,” Sango corrected, pointing at the side table.  Following her gaze, Miroku saw the broken bottle sticking up out of the destroyed telephone, shards of glass decorating the tabletop.  “This explains why the phone was dead…”

“Oh, the fool…” he groaned, placing his head in his hands.  “Come on.  We need to find him quickly.”

“There,” Sango replied after a moment’s search.  Gesturing down the hall, she pointed Miroku in the direction of the bathroom where a crack of light showed around the door, although she made no move to go herself.

Quickly abandoning his search of the kitchen, he strode down the hallway and flung open the door to the bathroom without hesitation, Sango hurriedly joining him when she heard him gasp.

Inu-Yasha was slumped against the side of the bathtub, his front stained with vomit and blood; every so often a drop of blood would splatter onto his filthy shirt from his slack mouth.  On his neck, the bandages that covered his puncture wounds were colored crimson and yellow, the wounds clearly infected.  His broken arm was out of its sling and laying at an odd angle, broken again, and his left hand was covered in angry, swollen, even open blisters.  It was obvious he hadn’t bathed, or even moved from this spot in days; he reeked of alcohol, and there was even a half-empty bottle of whiskey within arm’s reach, but it appeared to be long forgotten.  With pain etched in his expression, he was breathing raggedly, and was unable to even register their presence until Miroku knelt in front of him and grabbed his shoulders, Sango close behind.

“Inu-Yasha, what’s happened?  What have you done?!” he cried, lightly shaking the demon in an attempt to break him from his daze. 

Suddenly, Inu-Yasha groaned and leaned forward, grabbing at the toilet that was nearby and pulling himself forward.  Wincing as he saw the festering blisters rub against the toilet seat, Miroku quickly got out of the way as Inu-Yasha heaved weakly, vomiting clear fluid three times.  Pausing to catch his breath after the disgusting ordeal, a horrible cough wracked his entire body, and blood exploded from his mouth.  It splattered the toilet bowl with red droplets and colored the filthy water scarlet.  As he tried to spit out a foul mouthful of blood and vomit, he was unable to hold himself up any longer, and slumped onto his side, a painful grimace marring his features.

“My God…” Miroku breathed, shuffling closer and placing a hand on Inu-Yasha’s arm.  He had never seen Inu-Yasha this self-destructive—if it was self-destruction.

“This… is different than his other drinking binges,” Sango said, her voice shaking.  “I’ve never seen anything like this; something is very wrong.”

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Miroku began hefting Inu-Yasha’s over his shoulders, straining from the effort.  “We’ll let the professionals find out what’s going on.  Right now we just need to get  him to the Order’s hospital ward—fast.”  His tone was harsh and abrupt from fear.

Together, they pulled Inu-Yasha, who was as limp as a rag doll, to his feet and put an arm over their shoulders, then proceeded to carry him down the seven flights of stairs to Miroku’s car.  It was certainly an unpleasant task.  He was rather wet from a number of fluids they didn’t want to know the origin of, and the stench emanating from him was enough to fell an ogre.  He hadn’t even changed clothes from the night he killed the human, a full week ago.

“Put him on his side,” Miroku instructed breathlessly when they reached his car and laid the demon in the backseat.  “We don’t want him to choke if he pukes again.”  When Inu-Yasha was safely on his side, they jumped in the car themselves and peeled off, Miroku pressing the speed limit as much as he could.

In record time they arrived at the Order’s headquarters, a non-descript, unlabeled, multi-leveled office building.  Below the building was the hospital wing, made specifically for the medical care and treatment for demons.  Carefully pulling Inu-Yasha out of the car, they staggered inside and headed for the elevator, punching the ‘down’ button while ignoring the curious stare of Rin, the Order’s main secretary.  As Miroku impatiently waited for the numbers to go down, Sango checked on the demon, who hadn’t made more than the occasional groan during the trip.

“I’m surprised he’s still conscious…” she said, realizing that his eyes were open into slits as he panted softly.

“I’m not surprised,” Miroku snapped, readjusting his grip on Inu-Yasha as the elevator doors slid smoothly open.  “He’s a stubborn ass.”

What they had expected to see when they stepped into the hospital wing was the old Lady Kaede hard at work behind the oversized desk set up at the far end of the room.  While the ‘unofficial’ number one of the Order, she was the official head nurse, and had cared for just about every demon and human in the organization.  However, they were greeted by the sight of Lady Kaede deep in discussion with a young woman, who had long dark hair and was dressed in scrubs with playful cats all over them.

As they both stopped in confusion, Kaede and the woman both looked up, quickly spotting the pathetic Inu-Yasha supported between the two.  “Over this way,” she said roughly, skipping the greeting and leading them over to a set of double doors while the girl tagged along behind.  The doors led to a single room, filled with all sort of medical equipment that Sango and Miroku hadn’t the faintest idea how to use.  “On the bed.”

Obeying her command without hesitation, they eased the demon onto the sterile white sheets, which was no easy task.  The unknown woman lent a hand, though, and they eventually had Inu-Yasha stretched out on the bed.  He moaned slightly during the ordeal, and once again lapsed into a coughing fit.  Although it was not as violent as the first they had seen, they still could easily see the fresh blood in his panting mouth once the thick hacking ceased.

“How long has he been coughing up blood?” the woman asked seriously.

“We don’t know,” Sango said miserably.  “This is the first time we’ve seen him in a week…”

“What about these wounds?” Kaede queried, snapping on a pair of latex gloves.  “How long has he had those?”

“Um…”  Glancing at Miroku for help, Sango realized that he was staring tight-lipped Inu-Yasha and hadn’t even heard the question.  “For about two weeks, I think.  When we sent him to fight that spider demon.  He received the broken arm and the puncture wounds from that battle.  Then, when we sent him after that human about a week ago, he came back with burns over his left hand.”

“Two weeks…” Kaede murmured, studying his blistered hand through one beady eye, the other covered with an old eye patch.  “He should have been long since healed.  Did that spider carry a jewel shard?”

Slightly confused from the abrupt subject change, Sango replied shakily, “Yes…  We think he was poisoned by it, and since that bug had a shard, the poison was too potent for even his body to neutralize quickly, as it normally should have been able to do.  But to have his wounds deteriorate so fast…”  She gestured at his punctured neck, where dried blood and pus showed around  the bandages.  “I think it’s something more than the poison that causing this.”

“That’s a logical deduction,” Kaede said slowly, leaning over the demon and opening his eyelid wide to get a look at the eye itself.  As she was doing so, she stopped when she got a whiff of his breath and took a couple steps back.  “Been drinking again, has he?”

Biting her lip, Sango nodded, looking away.  “We found five and a half empty bottles around his apartment.  It’s only been a week…”

“Ah…  That would explain things.  Do you understand, Kagome?”  Kaede suddenly asked the woman, who had been standing by and quietly observing until now.

“I think so…” she replied slowly.  “At first, the poison was only preventing his body from healing the wounds received.  However, by adding such a large quantity of alcohol to his bloodstream, he thinned out his blood and slowed his nervous system, allowing the poison to circulate faster and slowing his body’s healing process.  That, on top of lack of proper care to his wounds, caused them to deteriorate so.”

Kaede nodded, pleased by the girl’s deduction.  “Very good.  And how do suggest we treat him?”

“Well, we should first attempt to get the poison out of his blood, as well as clean his wounds and dress them properly.  We also need to set his broken arm, and possibly lance his blisters—“

“Enough.  One thing at a time.  Please, go retrieve Myoga; we are in need of his services.”

As the girl disappeared through the double doors, Kaede turned to Sango and Miroku, who were staring at her in confusion.  “There will be time to explain things later,” she said sternly, ushering the two of them out the door.  “For now, Inu-Yasha needs immediate care.  Please wait outside until we’re finished.” 

The situation out of their hands, Sango led Miroku over to a couple hard plastic chairs nearby, where they sat in silence, watching as Kagome returned with the tiny flea bouncing behind her.  Once they were behind the doors, everything was quiet again.

After a few minutes of listening to the muffled sounds from the next room, Sango finally sighed and focused her attention on Miroku.

“How are you holding up?” she asked in concern.  “You’ve been awfully quiet.”  Miroku said nothing in reply; he was busy staring at a crack in the floor.  A little worried, Sango put a hand on his shoulder to get his attention.  “Miroku?”

At last, with a shaky sigh, he murmured, “He looked so sick…”

“Hm?”

“Inu-Yasha.  The only time I’ve seen him worse than this was right after Kikyo died.  But this time… this time it’s our fault.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Sango said gently.  She was surprised to see him so upset.  He was usually the one who was cool and collected about their tense and stressful relationship with the demon.  It wasn’t often he showed his worry so clearly.  “We didn’t force him to put so much alcohol into such a sick body.  He made that choice on all on his own.”

“No, we didn’t.  But we aren’t completely ignorant, Sango!  We’ve known Inu-Yasha for years; we know how he feels, we know his habits, we know his likes and dislikes…  We also know that the only way Inu-Yasha knows how to handle grief is with drink.  But despite knowing that, we tricked him into a bad situation, and as a consequence, he lands himself in the hospital.  Because of us.”

His little tirade ending, he put his head in his hands, and the two sat together in silence.  Sango couldn’t argue against what he said, for it was all true.

Finally, after a couple moments, she heard him whisper, “I hate that he’s like this…  And we can’t help him.  We’ve already tried everything we can think of to get him back on his feet, and nothing’s worked…  He needs something besides us, but what?  This is out of our hands…”  It was clear the seriousness of the situation was beginning to hit him.

“His condition may be out of our hands,” Sango corrected, “but that doesn’t mean we have to give up on him.”

“Sango, my dear, seven years of alcoholism cannot be reversed by mere friendship.  He needs more help than that.  He needs more than what we alone can give him.”  Leaning back in his chair, he took Sango’s hand in his own, seeking a bit of comfort.  “I just don’t know what to do anymore…”

Worried, for she rarely saw him look so hopeless, she thought hard.  At last, blushing furiously and going against her every instinct, she scooted forward in her chair and sat up straight, gripping his hand tightly.  “Miroku, I know you’re upset right now.  So, in order to make you feel better…”  She turned her head away and squeezed her eyes shut.  “…You may fondle my bottom.”

He blinked in surprise, for that was certainly not what he had expected to hear.  As he shifted to look at her and noticed her suggestive position, a small smile broke his features, and he laughed lightly.  Glancing over her shoulder when she heard him laugh, she flushed an even deeper red.  “You’d better take advantage of this now.  I’m never doing this again.”

“Oh, my dear Sango…” he sighed, putting his arm over her shoulders and pulling her close so that her head rested against his shoulder.  “Thank you.”

They fell into silence once more, although this time the tension in the air was far more relaxed.  After a few moments, Miroku said calmly, “Besides, I prefer to fondle the unsuspecting girl, like this,” and Sango felt the wandering hand over her backside.

There was a resounding slap!, and then silence reigned again.

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Over an hour passed before Lady Kaede, Kagome, and Myoga emerged from behind the double doors.  Myoga was now the size of a basketball and was giggling slightly, his cheeks stained red.  In response to the confused look Sango and Miroku gave him, Kaede said, “While removing the poison from Inu-Yasha’s bloodstream, he accidentally sucked some alcohol up as well.  A difficult mistake to avoid with the likes of that boy.  Kagome, if you wouldn’t mind?”

“Of course.”  Picking up the engorged flea, Kagome deposited him in another room, then returned to the group.

“Well?” Miroku asked impatiently when she returned.  “How is he?  Is he going to be all right?”

Kaede nodded.  “Of course.  The fool’s as tough as nails.  Right at the moment though, he’s in a stable, but critical condition.  Myoga was able to suck up most of the poison, but not all.  Inu-Yasha’s blood was quite potent for the old flea.”

“As for his wounds,” Kagome added, “We cleaned them thoroughly, and they appear better already.  We’ll keep him on antibiotics and continue to clean them periodically over the next few days, and they should be completely healed by the end of the week.  He’ll probably be able to go home by then.”

Although visibly relieved, Sango and Miroku looked skeptically at her.  Miroku asked, “Please pardon my rudeness, but who are you?  Being the heads of the Order means that we know all who have been hired, but I don’t seem to recall anything about you…”

“That’s because I hired her myself,” Kaede broke in.  Being the number one, the real head of the Order, she was indeed allowed to do such a thing without Sango and Miroku knowing.  “I needed a helper for the hospital.  With the growing number of demon threats around the city, I can’t concentrate on my leader duties and my hospital duties fully, so I hired Kagome here to help.  She’s trained at the Order’s school for several years, and excelled at demon medical studies.”

“Oh, really?” The pair were quite impressed.  The Order’s school was only for the most elite of students, and they were handpicked by members of the Order to even attend the school.  It was quite an remarkable feat to be chosen by the head of the Order herself for a job, so Sango and Miroku knew that she was no lightweight.  “Well.  Thank you for taking such good care of Inu-Yasha during this ordeal.”

“Oh, her job isn’t finished yet,” Kaede replied.  “As of tomorrow, I shall be taking my yearly tour of our other branches across the country.  Kagome will take over the hospital wing, and will be watching over Inu-Yasha as he recovers.”

Kagome nodded.  “I certainly hope I’m up to the challenge,” she said nervously, a shy smile on her face.  It seemed that, once  the crisis was over and she no longer needed to focus on her job, she was quite pleasant to be around.  “From what I’ve heard from Lady Kaede, he’s not the easiest person to handle.”

“Not to worry, Ms. Kagome.  Sango and I shall be at your side every step of the way.” 

Frowning at Miroku, for she immediately recognized the change in his speech as his way of picking up ladies, Sango pushed to be between him and the new girl.  “You’re going to need all the help you can get with Inu-Yasha.  We’ll be here to make sure he doesn’t get too out of hand.”

“Thank you.  I know you’re worried about him, but I’m going to do my best to get him healthy as soon as possible.”

“Healthy?  He hasn’t been healthy for years.  Just get him back on his feet and you’ll have done your job.”

Kagome, being trained in medicine and health, looked alarmed by Sango’s last statement, but Kaede interrupted before she could get a question in.  “That’s enough discussion for one night.  It’s late, and we’re all tired.  Miroku, Sango, you two should go home now.  Inu-Yasha will no doubt be unconscious for quite some time, so you should take this opportunity to rest.”

Nodding, the pair stood up.  “Thank you so much for all you’ve done today, Lady Kaede,” Sango said earnestly, shaking her superior’s hand.

“Hmph.  After that fool saves the city from certain doom…  It’s the least I can do.”

“And thank you, Ms. Kagome,” Miroku said gallantly, taking Kagome’s hand.  “I look forward to seeing more of you in this coming week.”

Scowling, Sango pinched his ear and dragged him towards the elevator.  “Come on, lover boy, you need to take me home.”

“Of course, my dear.  Of course.”

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