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fandomweekly2025-10-25 05:09 pm
ladygriddlebone) wrote in fandomweekly2025-10-25 05:09 pm
Entry tags:
[#279] Hidden Treasure (InuYasha)
Theme Prompt: #279 - Haunted Library
Title: Hidden Treasure
Fandom: InuYasha
Rating/Warnings: PG
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 1000
Summary: Of course what Sango wanted to show him was in that benighted hole in the ground...
When Sango said there was something she wanted to show him, the last thing Miroku expected was for that something to be a trap door hidden in the middle of what must have once been an ordinary-seeming building. They had to clear away rubble from the ruins just to access the door, the hard work of two whole days.
Of course, he realized as Sango lit a small lamp and began to carefully descend the ladder with it, what she wanted to show him was in that benighted hole.
Miroku did not like the look of that dark opening one bit, but where Sango went he would follow. He descended the rickety old ladder, which creaked and wobbled alarmingly under his weight, and hoped he would not regret it.
Below was a dark but surprisingly large, low-ceilinged room that had been carved out of the earth. The air was musty, earthy, old. And there was something eerie about being underground like this. Only—Sango’s lamp provided very little light, so he could not get a sense of the scale of the whole thing, but what Miroku could see astounded him. The walls were lined with shelves that stood from floor to ceiling, and each shelf was filled with books.
This was a library. Or perhaps more precisely, he realized as he began to gingerly explore the contents of those shelves, a catalog, an apparently full accounting of every kind of youkai the slayers had survived to record. For each book he investigated was labeled and provided great detail on a different type of youkai or spirit. Entries had been added over time, he saw with a thrill, as later slayers added their own experiences. There had to be hundreds, if not thousands, of books here. A collection of incalculable value.
“Sango,” he murmured, the only thing he could think to say.
“The knowledge isn’t lost yet,” she replied, her own voice hushed as well. “It’ll be here, waiting…”
Waiting for when her children were born. For when Sango would begin to train them as demon slayers.
He realized then, with a rush of joyous excitement, just how much the future would continue to surprise him, now that he had a future. Ever since the curse on his life and bloodline had been broken, some deeply buried part of him had worried about boredom and wanderlust and old habits, but he was beginning to see that he would never be bored with Sango at his side.
It had surprised him a little when he first learned that Sango could read and write. Most folk from small villages like hers never had the time or the opportunity, or the inclination. It surprised him less now, seeing all this. In fact, now it seemed only natural that of course Sango could read and write.
And so would her children, someday. Their children. A giddy thought, that.
“So what do you think?” Sango asked, drawing him out of his daydreaming.
“This would have been so helpful when I was training with Mushin,” he admitted ruefully. “The monks kept records, but nothing this thorough.”
“You know,” she told him, “the village kids always used to say this place was haunted. Don’t go in or the youkai will get you!” She smiled faintly, remembering. “But there aren’t any youkai here except on paper.”
“You sound almost disappointed.”
She gave a small laugh. “I was!”
Sobering suddenly, she handed him the lamp. He took it and waited.
She sought out a specific shelf and after a quick search brought a slim book to him. She opened it near the end, to the last page with writing, and held it for him to see. This page was covered with careful, neat characters describing a powerful bat youkai. The remainder was blank, yet to be written.
“My father wrote this,” Sango said. Tears glinted in her eyes but did not fall. “I could tell you who wrote the last entry in so many of these books… They may be gone, but they’re still here, aren’t they?”
Seeing her sorrow laid bare like that, so suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to hold her and provide what little comfort he could against the enormity of her loss. But he was also fully aware of the treasure they stood amidst—and just how fragile that treasure was. The lamp’s tiny flame was a terrible danger.
“We should go back up,” he said, gentle in the quiet. “All of this will wait.”
Sango nodded, but still looked as if she were miles or years away. She shook off her reverie enough to replace the book, lingering in the darkness longer than was strictly necessary, though he could hardly blame her for being affected by this place.
She had recovered herself by the time she rejoined him. He was relieved to see her eyes no longer glinted with tears.
Her voice was steady when she said, “Let’s go.”
Miroku boosted her up the ladder with a hand on her bottom—smiling as she sputtered in surprise, as if it were somehow unlike him to lighten the mood this way—then handed up the lamp and followed. Together they covered the hidden door again, a process which thankfully took less time than uncovering it had. When they finished, there was no sign that anything of interest could be found here.
It seemed somehow a shame that so much knowledge should be hidden away. Yet he also enjoyed the idea that such a treasure was here, waiting for them in this desolate place.
And it did feel as if it were waiting, after all. No longer could he see this place as a mere ruin, dead and destroyed. It was simply biding its time, like a seed buried through the winter, waiting to live anew.
For he knew that someday they would be back, he and Sango, and a new generation of slayers with them—and he was very much looking forward to that day.
Title: Hidden Treasure
Fandom: InuYasha
Rating/Warnings: PG
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 1000
Summary: Of course what Sango wanted to show him was in that benighted hole in the ground...
When Sango said there was something she wanted to show him, the last thing Miroku expected was for that something to be a trap door hidden in the middle of what must have once been an ordinary-seeming building. They had to clear away rubble from the ruins just to access the door, the hard work of two whole days.
Of course, he realized as Sango lit a small lamp and began to carefully descend the ladder with it, what she wanted to show him was in that benighted hole.
Miroku did not like the look of that dark opening one bit, but where Sango went he would follow. He descended the rickety old ladder, which creaked and wobbled alarmingly under his weight, and hoped he would not regret it.
Below was a dark but surprisingly large, low-ceilinged room that had been carved out of the earth. The air was musty, earthy, old. And there was something eerie about being underground like this. Only—Sango’s lamp provided very little light, so he could not get a sense of the scale of the whole thing, but what Miroku could see astounded him. The walls were lined with shelves that stood from floor to ceiling, and each shelf was filled with books.
This was a library. Or perhaps more precisely, he realized as he began to gingerly explore the contents of those shelves, a catalog, an apparently full accounting of every kind of youkai the slayers had survived to record. For each book he investigated was labeled and provided great detail on a different type of youkai or spirit. Entries had been added over time, he saw with a thrill, as later slayers added their own experiences. There had to be hundreds, if not thousands, of books here. A collection of incalculable value.
“Sango,” he murmured, the only thing he could think to say.
“The knowledge isn’t lost yet,” she replied, her own voice hushed as well. “It’ll be here, waiting…”
Waiting for when her children were born. For when Sango would begin to train them as demon slayers.
He realized then, with a rush of joyous excitement, just how much the future would continue to surprise him, now that he had a future. Ever since the curse on his life and bloodline had been broken, some deeply buried part of him had worried about boredom and wanderlust and old habits, but he was beginning to see that he would never be bored with Sango at his side.
It had surprised him a little when he first learned that Sango could read and write. Most folk from small villages like hers never had the time or the opportunity, or the inclination. It surprised him less now, seeing all this. In fact, now it seemed only natural that of course Sango could read and write.
And so would her children, someday. Their children. A giddy thought, that.
“So what do you think?” Sango asked, drawing him out of his daydreaming.
“This would have been so helpful when I was training with Mushin,” he admitted ruefully. “The monks kept records, but nothing this thorough.”
“You know,” she told him, “the village kids always used to say this place was haunted. Don’t go in or the youkai will get you!” She smiled faintly, remembering. “But there aren’t any youkai here except on paper.”
“You sound almost disappointed.”
She gave a small laugh. “I was!”
Sobering suddenly, she handed him the lamp. He took it and waited.
She sought out a specific shelf and after a quick search brought a slim book to him. She opened it near the end, to the last page with writing, and held it for him to see. This page was covered with careful, neat characters describing a powerful bat youkai. The remainder was blank, yet to be written.
“My father wrote this,” Sango said. Tears glinted in her eyes but did not fall. “I could tell you who wrote the last entry in so many of these books… They may be gone, but they’re still here, aren’t they?”
Seeing her sorrow laid bare like that, so suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to hold her and provide what little comfort he could against the enormity of her loss. But he was also fully aware of the treasure they stood amidst—and just how fragile that treasure was. The lamp’s tiny flame was a terrible danger.
“We should go back up,” he said, gentle in the quiet. “All of this will wait.”
Sango nodded, but still looked as if she were miles or years away. She shook off her reverie enough to replace the book, lingering in the darkness longer than was strictly necessary, though he could hardly blame her for being affected by this place.
She had recovered herself by the time she rejoined him. He was relieved to see her eyes no longer glinted with tears.
Her voice was steady when she said, “Let’s go.”
Miroku boosted her up the ladder with a hand on her bottom—smiling as she sputtered in surprise, as if it were somehow unlike him to lighten the mood this way—then handed up the lamp and followed. Together they covered the hidden door again, a process which thankfully took less time than uncovering it had. When they finished, there was no sign that anything of interest could be found here.
It seemed somehow a shame that so much knowledge should be hidden away. Yet he also enjoyed the idea that such a treasure was here, waiting for them in this desolate place.
And it did feel as if it were waiting, after all. No longer could he see this place as a mere ruin, dead and destroyed. It was simply biding its time, like a seed buried through the winter, waiting to live anew.
For he knew that someday they would be back, he and Sango, and a new generation of slayers with them—and he was very much looking forward to that day.
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