Authors note: Cutting is a serious issue; it is a sign of depression and depression is mental illness. If you know someone who is cutting themselves tell someone you trust right away.
Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha or any of it Characters. All are property of their respective owners
Authors note: In her review Black Moon Goddess said that she didn't think a monk would cut himself. I think that that is a good point, but you have to remember that Inuyasha takes place in the 1400's. In those times a son would usually inherit his father's job. In other words Miroku is a monk because his father was; it's highly unlikely that he had any choice in the matter.
A Silent Knife
Bring Me to Life
He picked another flower and put it in his basket. His mother loved flowers. She would be very happy for his gift. Since Father left there had been so much to do that his mother was very busy. Mushin was off on his Monk duties so he was no help. He and Mother had to do all the work. But Mama always made sure he had time to play.
He loved mother so much. She was always kind and happy, never cross. She was beautiful and could sing with such a voice that the birds envied her. She was the best Mother in the world without a question.
He looked into his basket and decided that he had enough flowers to be a good gift. He had all kinds of flowers; daises, marigolds, lilacs, and lots and lots of wild flowers. Mother could then arrange them all over the house and make it look wonderful and bright.
He raised his head to the sky and saw that the sun was almost directly over his head. That meant it was almost lunch time. He had to get home soon or the food that mother made would get cold. He broke into a run towards the temple, but was not to spill the flowers. He ran quickly but slowly enough so that he wouldn't trip and ruin the flowers. He couldn't let anything ruin his gift for mother.
He came to the door of the temple and ran inside; kicking off his shoes. He could smell the Miso soup cooking in the kitchen. "Mother," He called. "I'm back!"
He walked into the kitchen where the delicious smell of the food increased and made his tummy rumble. He looked around; his mother wasn't there. "Mother?" He inquired to the empty room. There was no answer.
He walked through the rest of the kitchen; maybe she hadn't heard him. No, she wasn't there, the miso soup was still boiling over the fire. Hmm, perhaps she was in the dining room waiting for him and she had kept the food on the stove to keep it warm.
He walked towards the dining room. Even before he entered he could smell something. It wasn't a pleasant smell; it made him want to gag. It smelled metallic and heavy. He was standing at the doorway to the dinning room. It was dark and all the windows were shut. He stepped forward and his foot hit liquid. Water? No, It wasn't water; it was blood.
He looked further in to the darkness of the room and saw his mother. But the woman there was not his mother. This woman was mangled with her ribs ripped open; her heart torn out. His breathing began to quicken and become shallow. This woman was not his mother! And yet she was. The woman lying there was his wonderful Mother.
An object flashed. There were red eyes in the darkness. A screech; and the window burst open. The light illuminated his Mother and reflected the liquid around her.
Then something snapped. His hand was being ripped open. It was like a silent knife had cut a hole in it and was creating a void within. It was consuming every thing. He was screaming but his screams were veiled by the howl of the wind.
I remember that, the child said sadly.
"Argh!" Miroku fell to the ground clutching his head. He was in pain. The memory was causing him such pain. He didn't want to remember that! He had wanted to forget it forever. "Why did I have to remember that? That was the day my life ended."
Or was it, perhaps, the day your life began? The child said cryptically.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Miroku snarled at the child, but then gripped his head in pain as another memory became reality.
It had been five days since Miroku had cut himself and Sango was beginning to lose hope. He had not awakened or moved or done anything. He was alive theoretically but he was with out emotion or feelings. And was a person without emotion really alive? No, they weren't.
In the past five days she had done nothing but sit by his side. She missed him so much. She wanted him back; she wanted to hear his voice again. Sango wanted to feel his touch again, even if it was an inappropriate one.
It is so sad, Sango thought as she brushed his bangs out of his face. He is so alone and he can't talk to anyone. When I lost everything at least I had all of them. I could take comfort in their words and become close to them. But Miroku can't. Even though we are always around him; he is alone.
"Sango-Chan?" she turned to the voice. Kagome and Inuyasha were standing behind her. Kagome looked nervous like she always did these days. Inuyasha on the other hand was looking suspicious. Kagome looked at Miroku's still form than turned to Sango. "Has there been any change."
"No," Sango responded sadly. "He hasn't moved or anything." She wished Kagome and Inuyasha would leave. She wanted to be alone with Miroku.
"It's so terrible," Kagome went on. "I wonder how he could have gotten hurt this badly. Could it have been Naraku?"
Sango flinched. All the five days she had managed to avoid the topic of the origin of his injury. She had promised Miroku that she would not tell anyone about his 'habit' so she decided not to talk about it at all. But she couldn't avoid the topic forever; she would have to lie. "I don't know what happened. It must have been Naraku, what else could it have been?"
BANG! Sango and Kagome both jumped. Inuyasha had stopped his foot on the floor; his expression had changed from suspicious to angry.
"Inuyasha, what?" Kagome asked nervously.
"That is bullshit!" Inuyasha growled. He glared at Sango and Sango was reminded of when Naraku had tricked and made her believe he was evil. She felt an echo of the fear she felt when she fought him; the fear that he would kill her.
"What is bullshit?" Sango asked, trying to keep the fear out of her voice.
"That Naraku hurt Miroku!" Inuyasha snarled. "Miroku he…" Inuyasha paused as though he didn't want to speak the next words. "Miroku did that to himself!" Then he turned to Sango and narrowed his eyes. "And you knew it didn't you?"
"No," Sango whispered feeling fear rise up in her. Inuyasha knew! He knew Miroku's secret. She had betrayed Miroku. Inuyasha had figured her out and now Miroku would suffer for it. "NO!"
"Yes you did!" Inuyasha shouted at her. He opened his mouth to shout at her more but Kagome put a hand on his shoulder and he stopped.
"Sango-Chan and Inuyasha," Kagome said looking between them. "Please stop shouting. Miroku-Sama would not like it if you shouted over him. Please explain yourselves in a calm manner for all our sakes."
"He cuts himself all the time," Inuyasha explained sadly. "I knew it I could smell the blood but I didn't want to say anything because I knew he wanted it to be a secret. I knew Sango knew because she was always looking at his wrist and so I put two and two together and…" He trailed off.
"Its true," Sango said miserably. There was no point in lying now, she decided. It would now be best to tell the truth. "I found him doing it one night and I… wanted to help him so badly and he didn't want me to tell anyone." She felt tears begin to run down her face. She felt Kagome's arms pull her into a hug.
"Its alright Kagome said soothingly. "No one blames you now we can all try to help."
All of them looked to Miroku's comatose body. All them wanted to wake Miroku up again. All of them wanted to hear his voice and laughter but none more than Sango.
"Why did you have to die…Father?" He stared at his father's gravesite in the middle of the massive that had been created in his death. The lonely cold grave stood alone with no grass or flowers around it. All that was there were his father's knife and some flowers he had put there. He was all alone now. His family was all gone. First Mama now Father. When would he die? He was only ten years old.
Why had was his father taken from him? Had his father been a bad man? He had always loved his father and his father had loved him. How could someone he loved be bad?
"Why?" he asked the grave. "Why do I…He broke off. "WHY DO I KEEP LOSING PEOPLE?!" He screamed. Some birds in the trees screeched and flew away but he didn't care. All he cared about was his father. And…
He looked down at his right hand. It was covered with rosaries to contain the horrible demon inside of his hand. His Father had called it the Kazaana. Father had had the demon in his hand too and it had killed him. His father had said that if he did not kill another demon called Naraku the Kazaana would kill him.
He was scared. He had been told that unless he killed someone he would be killed.
It was all so overwhelming. He felt as though he would be ripped apart by all the emotion in him. It was so painful, but there was no way to ease it. He could not find safety from in sleep, in food, in the stars or even other people. It was consuming him. Every second he lived it was consuming him.
He reached out and gripped his father's grave in hopes of steadying his self. He was shaking; his whole body was shaking with all the emotion within him. He couldn't go on like this. He couldn't live if kept having these pain attacks. It would just be too hard.
Taking a deep breath he took his hand off the grave and turned away. He had to go back to the temple now; Mushin would be expecting him to eat. Mushin always made sure that he ate. He began to make his way up the steep slope of the crater; it was hard to climb up but he was used to it now. Then suddenly he slipped. He landed hard on his front and his arm hit a sharp rock. He hissed in pain as the rock sliced his arm open and blood seeped out.
He groaned and lifted up his arm to inspect it. The sight of blood made him sick so he put his hand over his mouth to prevent himself from throwing up. His arm was seeping blood onto the grass in little drips; like red rain. As he stared at his bleeding arm he rapidly began to feel...calm. The sight of the blood made him feel come and at ease. The blood was easing his inner pain. He wanted to do it again.
The rock was dirty and jagged he decided. Then he remembered his father's knife. He slid down the crater's side and lifted the knife off of the grave's base. He raised the knife and made a small cut on his right arm. The cut of the knife was smoother and thinner, but more blood come out.
He loved this; he could not give it up. He knew it was wrong and disgusting but he didn't care. It felt to good for hjim to care; it was a euphoria. He could ease the pain but the pain always came back. So he cut him self more and the pain was gone but it always came back.
It was a vicious cycle of pain and relief.
"It's not fair!" Miroku looked at his cursed hand. "My life was over before it even began! And I didn't even get a choice!"
Are you sure your life was over? The child asked. Think of all the people you have come to know and all the places you have been. If not for the Kazaana would you have met those people or seen those places?
"I don't know…," Miroku turned away from the child. What the child said was true; he would not have met any of the people he cared for today if not for the Kazaana. "But still I am vile and disgusting! I cut myself and its wrong."
It is wrong. So why you continue? The child agreed. So why don't you stop?
"Because I can't!" Miroku yelled. "I just can't! It's a habit I can't break! I just need to die and end it! I have nothing to live for anyway!" Then somewhere from deep inside his mind there was an echo. An echo of words spoken to him that he seemed to forget so long ago came to him.
"I am going to help you, Miroku"
"Sango," He breathed.
Are you sure there is no reason for you to live? The child asked. Is there not one thing you love enough to stay for?
"I love…" What did he loved, was it love and was it enough? Could that be all he needed? Did he trust in it? Did He want to stop? The answer to all those questions was 'yes'. "I love Sango!"
I know, the child said triumphantly.
"And I want to see her again," Miroku said more to himself than the child. He didn't want to die! What he really wanted was to see Sango again! He wanted to see Inuyasha, Kagome, Shippou and Mushin again too! He wanted to see all of them!
Well than I guess this is goodbye, the child smiled at him. Perhaps we shall meet again.
"What?" Miroku called to the child, but the child seemed to not be able to hear him. there was a flash of white light that engulfed everything around him. He was blind and could not see. All sudden he could hear a voice that was calling to him.
"Miroku! Wake up Miroku!"
Everything was once again black. Miroku wondered if he had been sent back to the dark place with the child. Then it occurred to him that it was dark because he had his eyes closed. He opened them and blinked to get rid of the blur that was obscuring the room. Sango's face came into focus and it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
"I'm back," He said smiling weakly.
She smiled back at him through the tears in her eyes. "Welcome back."
Phew! There is the conclusion to the climax. The next chapter will finish the story! I may write an alternate ending too, so we'll see.
I want to thank everyone for reviewing! You guys are great and you really inspire me to work on my stories because you like them so much.
So now please review so I know that people are interested in this story and like it. So please, please, please review!!