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Entry tags:
Inuyasha - One-shot - Musings of a Gentle Nature
Title: Musings of a Gentle Nature
Author’s Name:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
parsnip_chan
Written for:prpl_pen for the January ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
iy_flashfic challenge
Pairing/Character: Sango/Miroku
Genre: Introspective, mildly playful in some parts
Rating: PG
Word Count: 3593
Author’s Note: This is written for the flashfic WAY back in January. Sorry for the long wait! Hopefully, it was worth it and if not, well, I blame real life and lack of motivation in all things that have to do with words. At least you can take satisfaction in the fact that since this was never completed, it kept gnawing at my brain without cessation.
PS. Feel free to request a consolation fic that I’ll get written up much, much, much quicker then this last one. Promise ^_^
Musings of a Gentle Nature
Soft beams of light were breaking over the horizon in a breath-taking array of pink and gold as the subtle shades of darkness gave way to the rising sun. The forest beneath her was enshrouded in a hazy fog, cool air misting her face as Kirara ran tirelessly onwards. Sango flexed the muscles of her diaphragm, allowing the cooler air of the upper stratosphere to enter her lungs. Summer was drawing to an end, a reminder that time moved faster then any being could hope to achieve.
Sango closed her eyes momentarily as a fresh gust of wind blew past her, buffeting her lithe body in an attempt to dislodge her from her perch. There were days she was grateful for the quiet solitude that the open sky granted her. It was during these blissful moments away from the shard-hunt, away from the constant bickering of the family she had fallen into, and the endless philandering of one not so innocent monk, that made her realize she would miss them when they no longer had a reason to travel together.
That she could still appreciate the quiet solitude surrounding her made her grateful as the fire-cat shifted beneath her thighs. That she could actually relax and enjoy the passing scenery was bittersweet. She both rejoiced at and regretted a certain monk’s absence on this journey, his body unable to press just a touch too close against her and unable to lend her the warmth that radiated from his robes.
Sometimes, Miroku was just a bit too much, even though she craved the feeling of being loved, even if it was an act which gave them both an illusion of what they desired.
This was why she needed time away from monks and their silver tongues and wandering hands. This was why she returned to her roots to pay tribute to her deceased family and friends. She needed to remember what it felt like to simply exist without cares or worries. She needed peace of mind to recuperate from the strain of struggling to unravel the double entendre of daily conversations and never spoken words. She hated the confusion of always wondering, of always being afraid to trust because she had been betrayed so many times already in her short life.
She missed Kohaku, and she was afraid of losing the friends she had gained because of that loss. Was it wrong of her to be grateful for the tragedy which threw her lot in with that of Inuyasha, Kagome, Shippou, and Miroku? Was she betraying her brother and father by siding with a child demon and a surly hanyou?
Closing her eyes against the turmoil of her thoughts, she concentrated on the rush of wind chapping her skin and the weight of her Hiraikotsu on her back. These were the things that never changed, her weapon and the destiny she inherited. It was her choice and her duty to wage a battle against the devils that sought to destroy human life and achievement. It was her source of grief as well.
She could now recognize the blessing of forgiving friends though she had fought against them at one time. She knew she had made the right decision to side with them in their pursuit of the jewel shards. By doing so, she had chosen her path and redeemed her honor. She had learned the truth behind her father’s death and her brother’s enslavement. She was grateful that they were so willing to help her salvage her soul though they could not keep it from being tainted with a grief and despair that had yet to fade.
It never would until Kohaku was laid to rest or else saved from Naraku’s evil machinations.
Pressing her thighs tight against Kirara’s ribs, Sango bent down to rub a cold cheek against her orange colored fur. It was a comfort, running her skin against the silky hairs of her companion. They had been through so much together.
Pushing aside the wanderings of her mind, Sango silently resolved to leave thinking for later. At this moment in time, she only wanted to drink in the beauty of the dawn and forget about the darkness at her back and the monk who was waiting to help her put back the pieces of her damaged heart.
~~~
To the casual observer, the monk was taking a nap. His head rested against the trunk of a tree, his face bent towards the sky and his staff propped against his shoulder. The same passersby might wonder if the purple clad stranger was just being lazy while others worked hard to use what light the day offered them. They were jealous of the ease with which he allowed the dawn to slip through his fingers unnoticed.
Few would be able to discern the subtle tensing of his jaw or the flexing of his fingers within the sleeve of his robe. Miroku was not interested in relaxing. He had yet to master the technique whenever Sango drifted from his sight. He was prone to worry and the clammy feeling of his skin always irked him.
He often wondered, during the long days of her absence, why it was that such a lack of presence would concern him so. He had proposed to countless women in his time, and left not a few beauties behind. None of them caused him to think about what dangers laid in wait to mar such perfect skin nor was he bothered with the thought of irate fathers and infatuated lovers. He rarely gave them a second thought once he left their sight, sometimes with horsemen at his back and other times with the woman in question in hot pursuit of his personage.
The weight of gold and silver on his hip was a sufficient goad as well.
Still, when Sango hopped astride her trusty companion and flew off beyond his reach, Miroku found it particularly unsettling that she might forget him, and he didn’t like that idea at all. He didn’t want to even contemplate the thought that such a beautiful, capable, utterly lethal woman could put him from her mind as easily as he had others.
Miroku moved slightly in an attempt to dislodge a particularly vindictive rock that was digging painfully into his ass. He needed to get his head checked soon because he was sure he was going crazy. He wasn’t positive, but traveling with Inuyasha had surely addled his wits after dealing with his stupidity on a daily basis.
Squinting, he forced his eyes to peel apart and gaze at the rising sun. Dazzling bright spots blinded him, making him think of something other then the ferocious woman that was traveling through who knows what kind of dangers, alone. She may be capable, but he knew she could be extremely fragile if the right opponent appeared in front of her.
Stretching his arms, he mused at the strange twist of fate that had landed him with friends after so many years of traveling alone. He didn’t know where this path would lead him, but he was glad for the months he had spent in their company, strangers no longer. He was afraid, though, for what demons would still be with them when he was no longer around.
He flexed his hand at the dark turn of his thoughts.
He didn’t want to leave anyone behind, Sango especially. When he was gone, who would give her something other then her own thoughts to focus on? Without his wandering hand, who would give her the outlet she needed for her frustrations and make her focus on something other then the recent battle? His task was a small one, but he knew she was grateful for the almost ritualistic touch of his hand.
Wearily getting to his feet, he murmured almost absently, “Human contact. Who knew it was such an important thing?” Brushing off his robes, he trudged back into the village ready to take on another day. Plastering a smile to his lips, he set about his task of comic relief, anything to distract his thoughts from the possibility that Sango would disappear before he did.
~~~
It had been two days since she had landed in her village. The graves were cleared of debris, flowers placed on each mound, and prayers recited in honor of each. Still, her mind had wandered in the simple tasks she set herself.
She had dreamed of her companions and worried over what new devilry they had mired themselves in during her absence. She had mused on their characters and the quirky little things they were known for. Kagome had her strange culture to draw upon with her instant noodles and odd views on life. Inuyasha had his peculiar way of showing he cared, both surly and yet kind in his own way, unable to think before he spoke. Shippou was simply a child used to acting like an adult, an odd mixture of intelligence and childhood naiveté.
And Miroku was a mixture of holy wisdom and active libido, forever working at his task of populating the world with little Mirokus although she questioned his ability to completely follow through on his propositions. Of course, there were those few maidens who delighted in his attention, Koharu a distant memory of devotion. She sometimes wondered if Miroku was ever afraid of dooming another child to his same fate, fated to die on the edge of youth.
She knew she feared the day he died. She was afraid Naraku would still be living and they would be forced to bear a new burden in the wake of his deceitful machinations. What would she do if he was no longer there to give her comfort and strength?
Sighing softly, Sango dusted the dirt off her skirt, standing to her feet in a single lithe gesture. Staring down at her father’s grave, she smiled weakly at her memories of his stern visage. With each passing day, she was beginning to understand him a little bit better though his features were slowly fading from her memory. He had been proud of his village and his children. He had been grateful that his wife had blessed him with such talented children because he knew they needed to be strong in both spirit and wisdom to lead their people well.
That he had feared for their safety went without question, but there was more to it than that as she had discovered in the last two years since his death. He had known that to grow, each of his children needed to experience life. How had he lived knowing he could not be there at every stage to protect them? It was something she was still learning, but it frightened her, just how helpless she could feel when faced with Kohaku’s blank expression.
She feared never being able to forgive herself for not protecting him well enough, for not being able to see past the surface layers of Naraku’s deceit. She had lost everyone then and continued to lose them time and time again when faced with Kohaku’s blade. She treasured those moments when he seemed to regain his mind. She treasured the moments when Kohaku could think and remember and feel, even if those same memories and feelings tortured him.
Father’s children seemed unable to escape their failures, the guilt weighing them down with pain.
Still, Sango smiled. There seemed to be hope at the end of the long days of travel and constant battle. She had friends at her side that seemed capable of letting her have her own space, to let her face her own demons, both internal and external. She had companions that stood by her, waiting for her to accept the help they silently extended to her. She had comrades that would stay with her a life time, bonds forged in battle and a common enemy though they may only reside in memory. Would they still be with her when Naraku was dead and the Shikon no Tama was whole at last?
She hoped so.
In the approaching sunset of one stage of her life, would she be able to walk unfettered towards a new sunrise? Would she be able to see the purple strength of Miroku’s eyes spreading across the dusk, and the silver lining of the setting sun as Inuyasha journeyed wherever his heart led him? Would she be able to say goodbye to the sapphire skies of Kagome’s cheery smile when she returned to the era that birthed her? Would the flaming red of the rising sun continue to greet her day after day as Shippou aged and matured and grew into the wisest demon of them all?
She had no answers to her questions, just the convictions of her heart.
Somehow, she knew they would all be there, just as her father and brother were still with her. Her memories may fade into indistinct edges and blurred convictions, but they would always be with her as she gained new understandings, new experiences, new loves and friends and family. That she hoped at least one member of their group would still be standing at her side, watching those changes take place, was but the greatest of her dreams.
With her heart strengthened, Sango took a last glance around the battered village and said her farewells once again. She would be back again, one day, but for now, she had another family to return to. Nodding to Kirara, she watched as the cat transformed, just as eager to return as she was.
~~~
Miroku had been pacing for the better part of the last hour. He couldn’t help it, and he knew that Inuyasha and Shippou both took amusement out of the fact he could no longer sit still. It irked him that they openly stood there, watching him, smirking at him.
Growling to himself, knowing that both could hear every mutter he uttered beneath his breath, he stooped and picked up a weighty rock. Tossing it gently in his hand, he glared at the two silent, pretentiously laughing individuals standing beneath Goshinboku. He couldn’t help his prowling when the sun was beginning to set and still there was no sign of Kirara’s characteristic trail of fire in the sky.
He was not in favor of spending a sleepless night worrying over her safety even though he knew the taijiya was perfectly capable of taking care of herself.
With a quick flick of his wrist, he sent the stone hurtling towards Inuyasha and Shippou, easily gliding through the air on a trajectory that would split the two apart. He took a tiny bit of satisfaction at seeing them shift to avoid his chosen projectile with the ease of practice. He almost didn’t care that they were openly laughing at his petty retaliations.
At the very least it distracted him for all of five seconds.
Returning to his pacing, he grimaced at his behavior. He was supposed to be the carefree monk who never worried, who was the perfect monk bent on meditation and good deeds and conning old men into giving them lodging and food. That he dabbled in women was but his prerogative, his special trademark if one granted him that tiny concession. He was not supposed to worry over the fate of one woman and make himself look a fool because of it.
He turned his back on his companions, choosing instead to walk down the well worn path between village and well looking for a view of the sky that was blessedly absent of hanyou and kitsune. He had enough of their knowing grins and suggestive words of consolation.
That the last few days without Sango caused him to feel hollow with loneliness was a strange tincture to swallow. He was not used to dwelling on women and how he missed one particular female’s hands on his face, the expression in her eyes as he pushed beyond the boundary of mutual respect. He took satisfaction in bringing her mind back from its wandering with a brush of his hand on her well toned derriere. He enjoyed the blush that habitually graced her cheeks when she thought he was too busy knocked out on the ground or nursing a bruised jaw.
He could dare to hope in those moments that she genuinely enjoyed his presence. He knew he took special joy in hers.
Coming to the end of the trail, he sank to the ground, lying spread-out on the grassy mound of a random hill. He took special note of the breeze that washed over him and the feeling of grass blades pricking his shoulder blades. Taking a deep breath, he forced his muscles to relax as the sun began to set and still there was no sign of Sango riding towards him from the clouded sky above.
It would not do to have his beautiful companion return and him to worn out to give her a proper greeting. He just hoped she would return soon before he exhausted himself in the pursuit of nonchalance.
~~~
Sango’s feet touched ground just a little after night had settled on the village. She took a deep breath of the country air, delighting in the feeling of home that settled around her. It was a little disconcerting that it was here, in Kaede’s village, that she felt truly at home rather than the village she had grown up in. It merely brought new meaning to the adage that home is where one makes it, and her home was with the living rather than with the deceased although her memories would return time and time again to the dead. She would always remember her childhood village with fondness, but it was no longer the place she belonged to anymore.
Rubbing a chilled hand through Kirara’s fur, she hugged the now deceptively small cat to her cheek, taking a moment to revel in the strange feeling of peace that washed over her. That she felt just a little excited at the prospect of seeing her friends again was a given; that she was hiding the gentle wash of heat that graced her cheek at the special welcome she wished she could give a particular friend was less so.
She hoped that they were all waiting for her back at Kaede’s hut, food simmering on the fire and the quiet murmur of voices wafting leisurely through the chilled summer air. She couldn’t wait to rejoin the warmth of that circle.
Gently placing Kirara on her shoulder, Sango hefted her weapon to her shoulder, settling it more firmly for the short walk from the meadow to the edge of light she could see from the hill she stood on.
Turning, she moved to walk blindly through the darkness surrounding her only to come face to face with a set of gleaming eyes that gently reflected the light of the moon rising behind her.
“Welcome back,” drifted the familiar voice to her ears.
“Thanks,” Sango whispered, a blush staining her face yet again. She took comfort in knowing her features were hidden in shadow.
“Did you have a nice visit?” he asked, standing to his feet.
“Very nice,” she replied, walking towards him. “Father’s grave has withstood the passage of time well.”
“That’s good to hear,” Miroku said, watching Sango glide towards him.
“Has Kagome returned from her time yet?” she asked, drawing out the gentle moments with idle chatter.
Miroku smirked. “She has to stay another day to take an exam. Inuyasha is less then pleased.”
Sango laughed softly, wondering at what special epithets he had to share this time around.
“I’m glad we get another day of rest. It was a long day of travel for me and Kirara.”
“Oh,” he replied roundly, gulping as Sango moved to walk past him into the forest at his back. “If you like, I could set you up with a special pallet to take your rest.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “There’s a hut just on the other side of the forest, too that a nice couple left behind in order to move closer to the woman’s sister. It’s still in good condition, and the firewood is dry.”
Sango paused in mid-step. “What?” she asked, a little flustered.
Barely controlling the grin from taking over his face, Miroku dropped to one knee in front of her half-turned body. “Sango,” he coughed, “Will you bear my children?” And he fondled her rear, letting his hand sweep along the fabric to the back of her knees, a special spot he had found by accident that made her especially skittish.
“Miroku!” she cried, snapping her wrist in reflex and sending him tumbling back down into the meadow. “Don’t do that!” she cried, striding quickly away from him, her heart beating wildly at the suggestion.
Secretly, she shared a smile for his antics, knowing he was playfully serious. One of these days, she knew she would take him up on that offer, but only when they had the chance to enjoy each other without interruptions and worries. Only when Naraku was dead and they were free could she call the monk out on his promises. Only then would she have the courage to act on her desires.
Lying sprawled across the dried grass, Miroku let loose the laughter that tickled his throat. Sango was still the same Sango. She hadn’t changed in the little time they were apart. He was glad for that and her safe return.
Things were back to normal.
Back to Fic Archive
Author’s Name:
parsnip_chanWritten for:
prpl_pen for the January iy_flashfic challengePairing/Character: Sango/Miroku
Genre: Introspective, mildly playful in some parts
Rating: PG
Word Count: 3593
Author’s Note: This is written for the flashfic WAY back in January. Sorry for the long wait! Hopefully, it was worth it and if not, well, I blame real life and lack of motivation in all things that have to do with words. At least you can take satisfaction in the fact that since this was never completed, it kept gnawing at my brain without cessation.
PS. Feel free to request a consolation fic that I’ll get written up much, much, much quicker then this last one. Promise ^_^
Soft beams of light were breaking over the horizon in a breath-taking array of pink and gold as the subtle shades of darkness gave way to the rising sun. The forest beneath her was enshrouded in a hazy fog, cool air misting her face as Kirara ran tirelessly onwards. Sango flexed the muscles of her diaphragm, allowing the cooler air of the upper stratosphere to enter her lungs. Summer was drawing to an end, a reminder that time moved faster then any being could hope to achieve.
Sango closed her eyes momentarily as a fresh gust of wind blew past her, buffeting her lithe body in an attempt to dislodge her from her perch. There were days she was grateful for the quiet solitude that the open sky granted her. It was during these blissful moments away from the shard-hunt, away from the constant bickering of the family she had fallen into, and the endless philandering of one not so innocent monk, that made her realize she would miss them when they no longer had a reason to travel together.
That she could still appreciate the quiet solitude surrounding her made her grateful as the fire-cat shifted beneath her thighs. That she could actually relax and enjoy the passing scenery was bittersweet. She both rejoiced at and regretted a certain monk’s absence on this journey, his body unable to press just a touch too close against her and unable to lend her the warmth that radiated from his robes.
Sometimes, Miroku was just a bit too much, even though she craved the feeling of being loved, even if it was an act which gave them both an illusion of what they desired.
This was why she needed time away from monks and their silver tongues and wandering hands. This was why she returned to her roots to pay tribute to her deceased family and friends. She needed to remember what it felt like to simply exist without cares or worries. She needed peace of mind to recuperate from the strain of struggling to unravel the double entendre of daily conversations and never spoken words. She hated the confusion of always wondering, of always being afraid to trust because she had been betrayed so many times already in her short life.
She missed Kohaku, and she was afraid of losing the friends she had gained because of that loss. Was it wrong of her to be grateful for the tragedy which threw her lot in with that of Inuyasha, Kagome, Shippou, and Miroku? Was she betraying her brother and father by siding with a child demon and a surly hanyou?
Closing her eyes against the turmoil of her thoughts, she concentrated on the rush of wind chapping her skin and the weight of her Hiraikotsu on her back. These were the things that never changed, her weapon and the destiny she inherited. It was her choice and her duty to wage a battle against the devils that sought to destroy human life and achievement. It was her source of grief as well.
She could now recognize the blessing of forgiving friends though she had fought against them at one time. She knew she had made the right decision to side with them in their pursuit of the jewel shards. By doing so, she had chosen her path and redeemed her honor. She had learned the truth behind her father’s death and her brother’s enslavement. She was grateful that they were so willing to help her salvage her soul though they could not keep it from being tainted with a grief and despair that had yet to fade.
It never would until Kohaku was laid to rest or else saved from Naraku’s evil machinations.
Pressing her thighs tight against Kirara’s ribs, Sango bent down to rub a cold cheek against her orange colored fur. It was a comfort, running her skin against the silky hairs of her companion. They had been through so much together.
Pushing aside the wanderings of her mind, Sango silently resolved to leave thinking for later. At this moment in time, she only wanted to drink in the beauty of the dawn and forget about the darkness at her back and the monk who was waiting to help her put back the pieces of her damaged heart.
To the casual observer, the monk was taking a nap. His head rested against the trunk of a tree, his face bent towards the sky and his staff propped against his shoulder. The same passersby might wonder if the purple clad stranger was just being lazy while others worked hard to use what light the day offered them. They were jealous of the ease with which he allowed the dawn to slip through his fingers unnoticed.
Few would be able to discern the subtle tensing of his jaw or the flexing of his fingers within the sleeve of his robe. Miroku was not interested in relaxing. He had yet to master the technique whenever Sango drifted from his sight. He was prone to worry and the clammy feeling of his skin always irked him.
He often wondered, during the long days of her absence, why it was that such a lack of presence would concern him so. He had proposed to countless women in his time, and left not a few beauties behind. None of them caused him to think about what dangers laid in wait to mar such perfect skin nor was he bothered with the thought of irate fathers and infatuated lovers. He rarely gave them a second thought once he left their sight, sometimes with horsemen at his back and other times with the woman in question in hot pursuit of his personage.
The weight of gold and silver on his hip was a sufficient goad as well.
Still, when Sango hopped astride her trusty companion and flew off beyond his reach, Miroku found it particularly unsettling that she might forget him, and he didn’t like that idea at all. He didn’t want to even contemplate the thought that such a beautiful, capable, utterly lethal woman could put him from her mind as easily as he had others.
Miroku moved slightly in an attempt to dislodge a particularly vindictive rock that was digging painfully into his ass. He needed to get his head checked soon because he was sure he was going crazy. He wasn’t positive, but traveling with Inuyasha had surely addled his wits after dealing with his stupidity on a daily basis.
Squinting, he forced his eyes to peel apart and gaze at the rising sun. Dazzling bright spots blinded him, making him think of something other then the ferocious woman that was traveling through who knows what kind of dangers, alone. She may be capable, but he knew she could be extremely fragile if the right opponent appeared in front of her.
Stretching his arms, he mused at the strange twist of fate that had landed him with friends after so many years of traveling alone. He didn’t know where this path would lead him, but he was glad for the months he had spent in their company, strangers no longer. He was afraid, though, for what demons would still be with them when he was no longer around.
He flexed his hand at the dark turn of his thoughts.
He didn’t want to leave anyone behind, Sango especially. When he was gone, who would give her something other then her own thoughts to focus on? Without his wandering hand, who would give her the outlet she needed for her frustrations and make her focus on something other then the recent battle? His task was a small one, but he knew she was grateful for the almost ritualistic touch of his hand.
Wearily getting to his feet, he murmured almost absently, “Human contact. Who knew it was such an important thing?” Brushing off his robes, he trudged back into the village ready to take on another day. Plastering a smile to his lips, he set about his task of comic relief, anything to distract his thoughts from the possibility that Sango would disappear before he did.
It had been two days since she had landed in her village. The graves were cleared of debris, flowers placed on each mound, and prayers recited in honor of each. Still, her mind had wandered in the simple tasks she set herself.
She had dreamed of her companions and worried over what new devilry they had mired themselves in during her absence. She had mused on their characters and the quirky little things they were known for. Kagome had her strange culture to draw upon with her instant noodles and odd views on life. Inuyasha had his peculiar way of showing he cared, both surly and yet kind in his own way, unable to think before he spoke. Shippou was simply a child used to acting like an adult, an odd mixture of intelligence and childhood naiveté.
And Miroku was a mixture of holy wisdom and active libido, forever working at his task of populating the world with little Mirokus although she questioned his ability to completely follow through on his propositions. Of course, there were those few maidens who delighted in his attention, Koharu a distant memory of devotion. She sometimes wondered if Miroku was ever afraid of dooming another child to his same fate, fated to die on the edge of youth.
She knew she feared the day he died. She was afraid Naraku would still be living and they would be forced to bear a new burden in the wake of his deceitful machinations. What would she do if he was no longer there to give her comfort and strength?
Sighing softly, Sango dusted the dirt off her skirt, standing to her feet in a single lithe gesture. Staring down at her father’s grave, she smiled weakly at her memories of his stern visage. With each passing day, she was beginning to understand him a little bit better though his features were slowly fading from her memory. He had been proud of his village and his children. He had been grateful that his wife had blessed him with such talented children because he knew they needed to be strong in both spirit and wisdom to lead their people well.
That he had feared for their safety went without question, but there was more to it than that as she had discovered in the last two years since his death. He had known that to grow, each of his children needed to experience life. How had he lived knowing he could not be there at every stage to protect them? It was something she was still learning, but it frightened her, just how helpless she could feel when faced with Kohaku’s blank expression.
She feared never being able to forgive herself for not protecting him well enough, for not being able to see past the surface layers of Naraku’s deceit. She had lost everyone then and continued to lose them time and time again when faced with Kohaku’s blade. She treasured those moments when he seemed to regain his mind. She treasured the moments when Kohaku could think and remember and feel, even if those same memories and feelings tortured him.
Father’s children seemed unable to escape their failures, the guilt weighing them down with pain.
Still, Sango smiled. There seemed to be hope at the end of the long days of travel and constant battle. She had friends at her side that seemed capable of letting her have her own space, to let her face her own demons, both internal and external. She had companions that stood by her, waiting for her to accept the help they silently extended to her. She had comrades that would stay with her a life time, bonds forged in battle and a common enemy though they may only reside in memory. Would they still be with her when Naraku was dead and the Shikon no Tama was whole at last?
She hoped so.
In the approaching sunset of one stage of her life, would she be able to walk unfettered towards a new sunrise? Would she be able to see the purple strength of Miroku’s eyes spreading across the dusk, and the silver lining of the setting sun as Inuyasha journeyed wherever his heart led him? Would she be able to say goodbye to the sapphire skies of Kagome’s cheery smile when she returned to the era that birthed her? Would the flaming red of the rising sun continue to greet her day after day as Shippou aged and matured and grew into the wisest demon of them all?
She had no answers to her questions, just the convictions of her heart.
Somehow, she knew they would all be there, just as her father and brother were still with her. Her memories may fade into indistinct edges and blurred convictions, but they would always be with her as she gained new understandings, new experiences, new loves and friends and family. That she hoped at least one member of their group would still be standing at her side, watching those changes take place, was but the greatest of her dreams.
With her heart strengthened, Sango took a last glance around the battered village and said her farewells once again. She would be back again, one day, but for now, she had another family to return to. Nodding to Kirara, she watched as the cat transformed, just as eager to return as she was.
Miroku had been pacing for the better part of the last hour. He couldn’t help it, and he knew that Inuyasha and Shippou both took amusement out of the fact he could no longer sit still. It irked him that they openly stood there, watching him, smirking at him.
Growling to himself, knowing that both could hear every mutter he uttered beneath his breath, he stooped and picked up a weighty rock. Tossing it gently in his hand, he glared at the two silent, pretentiously laughing individuals standing beneath Goshinboku. He couldn’t help his prowling when the sun was beginning to set and still there was no sign of Kirara’s characteristic trail of fire in the sky.
He was not in favor of spending a sleepless night worrying over her safety even though he knew the taijiya was perfectly capable of taking care of herself.
With a quick flick of his wrist, he sent the stone hurtling towards Inuyasha and Shippou, easily gliding through the air on a trajectory that would split the two apart. He took a tiny bit of satisfaction at seeing them shift to avoid his chosen projectile with the ease of practice. He almost didn’t care that they were openly laughing at his petty retaliations.
At the very least it distracted him for all of five seconds.
Returning to his pacing, he grimaced at his behavior. He was supposed to be the carefree monk who never worried, who was the perfect monk bent on meditation and good deeds and conning old men into giving them lodging and food. That he dabbled in women was but his prerogative, his special trademark if one granted him that tiny concession. He was not supposed to worry over the fate of one woman and make himself look a fool because of it.
He turned his back on his companions, choosing instead to walk down the well worn path between village and well looking for a view of the sky that was blessedly absent of hanyou and kitsune. He had enough of their knowing grins and suggestive words of consolation.
That the last few days without Sango caused him to feel hollow with loneliness was a strange tincture to swallow. He was not used to dwelling on women and how he missed one particular female’s hands on his face, the expression in her eyes as he pushed beyond the boundary of mutual respect. He took satisfaction in bringing her mind back from its wandering with a brush of his hand on her well toned derriere. He enjoyed the blush that habitually graced her cheeks when she thought he was too busy knocked out on the ground or nursing a bruised jaw.
He could dare to hope in those moments that she genuinely enjoyed his presence. He knew he took special joy in hers.
Coming to the end of the trail, he sank to the ground, lying spread-out on the grassy mound of a random hill. He took special note of the breeze that washed over him and the feeling of grass blades pricking his shoulder blades. Taking a deep breath, he forced his muscles to relax as the sun began to set and still there was no sign of Sango riding towards him from the clouded sky above.
It would not do to have his beautiful companion return and him to worn out to give her a proper greeting. He just hoped she would return soon before he exhausted himself in the pursuit of nonchalance.
Sango’s feet touched ground just a little after night had settled on the village. She took a deep breath of the country air, delighting in the feeling of home that settled around her. It was a little disconcerting that it was here, in Kaede’s village, that she felt truly at home rather than the village she had grown up in. It merely brought new meaning to the adage that home is where one makes it, and her home was with the living rather than with the deceased although her memories would return time and time again to the dead. She would always remember her childhood village with fondness, but it was no longer the place she belonged to anymore.
Rubbing a chilled hand through Kirara’s fur, she hugged the now deceptively small cat to her cheek, taking a moment to revel in the strange feeling of peace that washed over her. That she felt just a little excited at the prospect of seeing her friends again was a given; that she was hiding the gentle wash of heat that graced her cheek at the special welcome she wished she could give a particular friend was less so.
She hoped that they were all waiting for her back at Kaede’s hut, food simmering on the fire and the quiet murmur of voices wafting leisurely through the chilled summer air. She couldn’t wait to rejoin the warmth of that circle.
Gently placing Kirara on her shoulder, Sango hefted her weapon to her shoulder, settling it more firmly for the short walk from the meadow to the edge of light she could see from the hill she stood on.
Turning, she moved to walk blindly through the darkness surrounding her only to come face to face with a set of gleaming eyes that gently reflected the light of the moon rising behind her.
“Welcome back,” drifted the familiar voice to her ears.
“Thanks,” Sango whispered, a blush staining her face yet again. She took comfort in knowing her features were hidden in shadow.
“Did you have a nice visit?” he asked, standing to his feet.
“Very nice,” she replied, walking towards him. “Father’s grave has withstood the passage of time well.”
“That’s good to hear,” Miroku said, watching Sango glide towards him.
“Has Kagome returned from her time yet?” she asked, drawing out the gentle moments with idle chatter.
Miroku smirked. “She has to stay another day to take an exam. Inuyasha is less then pleased.”
Sango laughed softly, wondering at what special epithets he had to share this time around.
“I’m glad we get another day of rest. It was a long day of travel for me and Kirara.”
“Oh,” he replied roundly, gulping as Sango moved to walk past him into the forest at his back. “If you like, I could set you up with a special pallet to take your rest.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “There’s a hut just on the other side of the forest, too that a nice couple left behind in order to move closer to the woman’s sister. It’s still in good condition, and the firewood is dry.”
Sango paused in mid-step. “What?” she asked, a little flustered.
Barely controlling the grin from taking over his face, Miroku dropped to one knee in front of her half-turned body. “Sango,” he coughed, “Will you bear my children?” And he fondled her rear, letting his hand sweep along the fabric to the back of her knees, a special spot he had found by accident that made her especially skittish.
“Miroku!” she cried, snapping her wrist in reflex and sending him tumbling back down into the meadow. “Don’t do that!” she cried, striding quickly away from him, her heart beating wildly at the suggestion.
Secretly, she shared a smile for his antics, knowing he was playfully serious. One of these days, she knew she would take him up on that offer, but only when they had the chance to enjoy each other without interruptions and worries. Only when Naraku was dead and they were free could she call the monk out on his promises. Only then would she have the courage to act on her desires.
Lying sprawled across the dried grass, Miroku let loose the laughter that tickled his throat. Sango was still the same Sango. She hadn’t changed in the little time they were apart. He was glad for that and her safe return.
Things were back to normal.
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Would she be able to see the purple strength of Miroku’s eyes spreading across the dusk, and the silver lining of the setting sun as Inuyasha journeyed wherever his heart led him? Would she be able to say goodbye to the sapphire skies of Kagome’s cheery smile when she returned to the era that birthed her? Would the flaming red of the rising sun continue to greet her day after day as Shippou aged and matured and grew into the wisest demon of them all?
I hate doing that (copying the whole thing), but I haven't quite got a handle on an alternative. I also thought 'pursuit of nonchalance' was outstanding. Your story captures the essence I prefer to think flavours the Sango/Miroku pairing.
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Thanks!
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Beautiful!
(Anonymous) 2006-10-30 07:30 pm (UTC)(link)