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a dream at work
Sango stared blankly at the ceiling of her hut, chattering to the emptiness. Miroku held her hand, weeping gently.
“Please, Sango,” he begged. “Please, just look at me! Tell me that you’re still there!”
But there was no answer. The once-proud slayer was oblivious to the monk sobbing beside her.
“Oh and gods, Kohaku! You should have seen the man in my dream. His name was Miroku, but I always called him houshi-sama. He was very nice and polite, but ugh! Was he perverted! Sometimes I just wanted to smack him, never mind that I usually did.”
Miroku stopped crying abruptly. She was…talking about him? He continued listening to her previously mindless babbling.
“But my, was he handsome. I wonder now how I managed to dream up such a good-looking man.” There was a pause, almost as though someone else were speaking, then Sango laughed. “I know, I know, but I just need to tell someone about it all.” She sighed, almost dreamily. “It was just so…so real. But it wasn’t all flowers and sunshine and love, you know. There was so much darkness and evil, Kohaku, you just wouldn’t believe it. It’s just like I told you earlier. Father was dead and so was everyone else but you and I, and you hardly counted.” A delicate tear trickled down her cheek as she struggled on with her tale to an invisible companion. Miroku sunk down to his knees, utterly defeated.
“Sango…” he whispered brokenly.
Kagome sat upright, a scream tearing at her already abused throat. Seemingly a thousand people descended upon her, all dressed in blinding white. Their hands were all over her, holding her down, forcing something in her arm that had no business being there, attempting to soothe her in the worst way. Her eyelids suddenly felt a thousand times heavier.
“You…you drugged me!” she croaked before falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.
When Kagome next opened her eyes, cheerful sunlight streamed in through the window at her side. A weight pressed against the foot of the uncomfortable hospital bed, creating a dip near her left leg. Frowning slightly, Kagome looked to the area.
“Mom?” she said shakily, her voice cracking slightly.
The woman’s head shot up and Kagome gaped. Her usually glowing mother looked a thousand years old at least. Her eyes were dull, framed by dark circles in gray skin. But then a bright smile erupted in her ancient features and she laughed gleefully.
“Souta! Grandpa! She’s awake!” she cried. Kagome beamed as her brother and grandfather burst into the room.
“Kagome-chan! We were so worried,” the old man said. “You’ve been asleep for nearly a week since you last woke!”
“A week…?” she inquired, dazed. She vaguely remembered the last time she’d opened her eyes, but certainly it hadn’t been that long! She looked around the room. It was different from last time, and it wasn’t just the sunlight.
“They moved you out of the ICU yesterday,” Souta explained, seeing her bemused expression. “Said something ‘bout how it might be upsetting you or somethin’.”
Kagome nodded slowly. Suddenly, it hit her with full force. Inuyasha was gone, having disappeared into hell with Kikyou. She stared straight in front of her, her jaw slack.
“Kagome?” her mother inquired, but the sound was far off and echoing. A single tear ran down the young miko’s face. She reached a hand up and caught it, her gaze staying level with the end of the bed. The tiny drop of water clung to her finger desperately as she brought it up to look at it.
“Funny things, these tear drops,” she murmured. “Inuyasha used to always tell me not to cry over him.” She buried her head in her hands, the picture of defeat. “Why did it have to be me who survived?”
Her family could only look on helplessly, unable to offer comfort.