Miroku wrapped the last loop of linen bandage around his friend's chest. They were sitting in a small room in a third-rate inn, the only accommodation the small village had to offer.
"There," he said, tying the bandage in place. "That should do it."
InuYasha nodded his head, still not speaking much as he dealt with his injury.
Miroku sighed as he put his medicines back into his travel pack, feeling rather bad about what happened to his friend. "At least they were willing to put us up for the night for free. It's not like we can actually charge them anything this time. They've had hard times here for a while." He shook his hair. "Too many underfed children."
InuYasha leaned back against the wall, shirtless. "Keh," he muttered. He had seen the signs. Between the youkai and the warlords playing their games, this small village had paid a heavy cost. Miroku, for all of his soak it to the rich ways, never withheld aid to the poor.
Miroku picked up the ripped and bloody kosode InuYasha had been wearing. “I’m going to see if they can do something about this,” he said, and slipped out of the room.
InuYasha grabbing for his sword, looked up as the monk reentered the room. “Well?” he asked.
Miroku, looking serious and thoughtful, sat down by the fire pit, and fed it some more charcoal. “They said they ought to be able to get the blood out,” he said.
“Good,” InuYasha said.
The two men grew quiet, each lost in their own thoughts. InuYasha, surprisingly, broke the silence first. "It's not your fault, Bouzu," the hanyou muttered. "Neither one of us knew how big that youkai was going to be. Or how fast."
Miroku stirred the pot where he had some soup simmering, and looked at his companion. "Even regular boars are tricky. I'm sorry. If I hadn't tripped . . . "
"Still might have gotten me anyway. Damn thing was so fast," InuYasha said, his eyes half-closed as he concentrated on controlling the pain. "Sango would have killed me if I let you get gored."
"And the lovely Kagome-sama won't for letting yourself get injured?" Miroku asked. He tested the soup, then ladled it into a bowl, which he passed to InuYasha.
"Feh," he said, before raising the bowl to his lips. "She's not going to know. Be healed up before we get back." He took another sip of the soup. "You sure they can get the bloodstains out of my kosode?"
Miroku hazarded a small grin, knowing the innkeeper was having it both washed and mended. "Probably. I'm not sure about the rips, though. I hope, my friend, you're handy with a needle."
InuYasha downed the last of his soup. "Kagome's going to kill me," he said.
"Somehow, I doubt that," Miroku said.
"You didn't see her the last time I ripped my shirt fighting," he replied.