Poison 2: In the Blood by Robuyasha

Morning Dew....and Morning Don'ts

     Sesshomaru sat on the rough surface of a fallen tree, staring dazedly into a waning campfire. Before long Jaken and Rin would awaken, and they would continue on their usual journey.
That journey seemed to have lost it’s luster, though, since…
     He tried to rationalize his thoughts. ‘Surely these are just after-effects of the poison.’ He couldn’t shake the feelings for that human girl. He was largely helpless to control his body during that period, but he couldn’t deny that it was largely his influence that drove them together that night.
     “Enough,” he said aloud, though he did so softly. “Today, I will see her, and banish her plaguing presence from my thoughts.”
     Good luck with that, Sesshy.
                                                                                  Ω
Miroku was skulking his way back to camp, nursing a red glowing cheek given to him by Sango earlier that morning. “The sacrifices I make to find the mother of my children.” He made his way back to the path through the woods that would eventually bring him to their campsite.
     He’d ventured out with her to hunt for the days food, but she’d taken umbrage to a simple pat on the backside (that he’d given her in praise for her hunting prowess) and sent him packing. Completely unfair, of course, but she obviously needed the time alone.
     He noticed a man coming from the other direction. The man was young, with long black hair in a braided ponytail, and he carried a large burlap sack. He was bright red from the heat, which was unusually brutal, especially for this early in the day.
     As they came closer together, Miroku nodded politely to the young man. “Good day, sir,” he greeted him.
     “Is it? It seems very hot to me,” the man grumbled.
     Miroku glanced up through the trees to the harsh sunlight they obstructed. “Yes, but it’s not so unusual. Such is Japan in the summer.”
     “You know,” the man said directly, “I know a way you can beat the heat.”
     Miroku chuckled. Of course, he thought, I should have known he was a traveling salesman. “Really?” he feigned enthusiastic surprise. “Please, what is it?”
     The man’s smile faded. “I’m no fool, I know when someone is screwing with me.” He hoisted his sack back to his shoulder, and stepped to pass.
     Miroku felt bad, moved in front of him. “Forgive me. It’s early. What is it you carry?”
     “Well, fortunately for you, I am immune to your disdain,” he answered with a shrug. He placed the bag on the ground and pulled open the strings. He pulled forth a bottle, thrust it to Miroku.
     The monk eyed the bottle closely, but did not reach out a hand. Often these peddlers would drop their wears and make you pay for the breakage. Instead, he perused the article with a keen eye. “Is this water?” he asked finally.
     The man nodded.
     “Wow,” Miroku turned to leave. “You are unquestionably the laziest conman I’ve ever…”
     “Water that stays cold…forever.”
     Miroku stopped, turned his head. An impressive boast, especially on a day like today. Then, he thought, perhaps this man is five minutes from some unknown spring. But how would he have known he’d see someone soon enough for this con? Perhaps he was just taking advantage of the timing…
     “Even if you boil it,” the man added just above a whisper.
     Miroku looked at him with suspicion. Then he walked to the edge of the sunlight. He bent down and gingerly tested one of the rocks. Just as he suspected, it was burning to the touch.
     “Then set that bottle there. If by the end of our conversation it is still cool, I will by a bottle.”
     “Two bottles?” The man ventured with a devious smile.
     “Very well,” Miroku scoffed, “Two bottles.”
     The man placed a bottle on the rock. “The second,” he explained, “I’ll keep in my bag so you can compare them.
     Miroku nodded with a smile, then walked back into the shade. “I am Miroku, by the way. Where are you traveling to?”
                                                                                  Ω
“I’ll be damned,” Miroku said, feeling the bottle in his hand. “Cold as winter!”
     “I told ya! Now here’s that second bottle, and if you have my money, I need to move on to my next sucker…er, water. Water sucker. Customer.”
     Miroku had already pulled out the money when he heard the sucker bit. “Wait, what was that?”
     “Yoink!” The man ran down the road, throwing the sack over his shoulder.
     Hmm, Miroku thought, wonder what that was about. “I hope there’s nothing wrong with this water.” He opened the bottle, and cautiously took a sip.

                                                                                  Ω

Sango was pissed. She was dragging her Hiraikotsu behind her, two deer impaled along one half. She had meant to go out and catch a rabbit or something, mostly unconcerned of what food she would catch. She left with Miroku, hoping to have a deep, meaningful walk and conversation with him. What she got, well, she got the usual: grope, sore hand from slap, and more grope. Of course, he would never do anything to put her in an uncomfortable position. But damn it, maybe he should! 'Enough of all the damn groping,' she thought to herself, ' I just want him to...wait, no I don't! Damn his strong, firm, sexy hands! Damn them!'
     Her thoughts were tumultuous as she made her way back to camp, and she'd already spent much more time out in the heat then she'd intended. She had just found the main path when she came across a young man carrying a burlap sack.
     "Morning," the man said. "Sure is hot. But you know...oof!" His words were cut short by a foot to his nuts.
     "Keep your hand off my ass!" She shouted in his ear, as he lay doubled over on the ground. She turned to stomp off, then stopped dead in her tracks. "Oh, crap, sorry!" she cried, rounding and kneeling at his side. "I wasn't really here. I am so, so sorry."
     "I don't want to be a girl again..." he murmured in a high voice.
     "What?" Sango asked, surprised. She got no response, for the man passed out in pain.
                                                                     Ω
     "Psst!"
     Kagome was kneeling at the stream just feet away from where they'd camped, drawing some water, when she heard someone trying to get her attention.
     "Psst!"
     She heard the sound again, turned to the bush where it came from. "Is someone there?"
     "Um, Kagome..." a whispered voice ventured.
     She stood to her feet, wary. It was no one in her party. "Who's there?"
     "Well, um..." the voice trailed off.
     Kagome was starting to get nervous. "Please, show yourself." She started to move her hand to her bow, which was leaning against a rock nearby.
     She heard a sigh, then a girl stepped out of the bushes in saggy purple robes. She almost looked like she was draped in bedsheets, and she was obviously naked underneath.
     "Are...are you alright?" Kagome thought she must be running from someone, she was so nervous. Then, she noticed the hand holding the robes up. A hand wrapped in beads. Miroku's beads.
     "What did you do with Miroku?" Kagome shouted, training an arrow to her head.
     "No, Kagome! It's me!" the girl walked towards her, holding up the robe with one hand, holding the other in front of her defensively.
     'Wait,' Kagome realized, 'how does she know my name?'
     The girl approached her, and Kagome started to recognize the eyes. But from where? Did they come across her in their travels? Could Miroku have finally found a taker on his constant groping?
     Then she felt a hand on her ass, and she knew the answer right away.

                                                                    ЯR