Writer's Rant (a.k.a. W.R.): The clock is currently sitting at a steady one A.M. and I'm hooked (so to speak) on drinking even more coke than before. So forgive me for this random idea that suddenly popped in my head. Yes, Miroku sitting on a rock is an idea. Unfortunately for you, and well, for me too. Anyway, once more, review if you want, but what I need is the CC.
Summary: So Miroku's been rejected once more, no surprise there, eh? But what happens when he tries and 'get in style' with Kagome? Mir/Kag? [Semi AU]
By the way, the reason that this is AU is because no-one's fallen in love with anyone yet. Though I wish that the anime would soon realize the building potential between Mr. Monk, Kagome and Dog-Boy and Sango. Tee hee.
~*~
So he had been rejected. Again. It came as no surprise to him, metaphorically speaking, that was. In fact, rejection had almost always been a constant element within his life. It brought him to a certain height of 'equilibrium,' as he liked to call it within his mind. Of course, it certainly did hurt (physically) when he was slapped, and (emotionally) when women decided to elucidate on why they would never bear his children (it made him feel ugly), but all in all, he was a happy, little monk. What did surprise him, though, was why each of his friends continued to ask him the almighty, divine question of why he chose 'monk' as a profession. He thought it suited him quite well. Oftentimes, he chided in the helpful comment or two, and he really was quite handy with the staff. Even handier, perhaps, with the other staff. Chopsticks, so to speak, were his utmost specialty. He was even better at them than Inu-yasha! And the boy called himself the 'Ramen King!' Why, it was almost the same as Kagome and her 'Burger King!'
His cloak dropped off of his lithe frame as he stared into the night sky, feeling the jagged pinch of rocks on his precious derriere (at least to him it was). He was never one for picking out constellations, and was even worse at remembering their names. Interesting fact, though, was that he remembered women's names in an instant. They were pretty young things, women, but as fickle as a rhetorical question left unanswered. Certainly, he was not the one to 'answer' their conundrum, but nonetheless, his constant 'addiction' to their kind left him hanging.
"What're you doing, Miroku-sama?" a voice interrupted his so-called thoughts. His eyes blinked lecherously as he realized who it was.
Kagome.
Oh yes, and with her short skirt too. He certainly loved the time period where she came from. Now if only that shirt would go just a little lower. And of course, a little more see-through. Without that flimsy material covering her chest. Sweet gods, his thoughts were rambling.
"What is it, Kagome-sama?" Why have the 'sama' in everything? If only he could call her 'chan,' then all would be better. Partially because nights wouldn't be as tedious, and partially because days wouldn't be as laborious. Oh yes, he was ever the dreamer.
"Just couldn't sleep," she explained, sitting herself beside him. What was it she smelled of? Strawberries, that was. That scent always seemed to adhere itself onto his brain (or lack thereof) for an unknown reason. All the other girls he had met were filled with a good (too many) dosing of lemon, lime and orange. He hated orange, so to speak, and he hated it even more when combined with all those other fruits. Dear, old poppa hadn't been very sober when he told him oranges could be eaten, skin and all. The experience left him traumatized.
"—so really, when I can't sleep, I'm always out here. Don't you think the stars are beautiful?" Silence hung in the air. "Did you hear a word I spoke?"
"Hn?"
"And what's wrong with your eyes, they're looking down all the time."
He tried hitting his head. "Just a little cross-eyed."
Damn it, he cursed, so she saw, huh? She's a bright one, that girl. Too bright for her own good.
It was quite a surprise, however, that Kagome hadn't cursed at him for having his hand so near to her wonderful assets. If he moved it a little to the left, he could almost touch it. Almost. But he didn't intend to besmirch the moment at hand. Some thought of him as shallow and naïve, but his experience and wisdom went a little deeper than the norm of society. It was a trait that proved beneficial to him, especially when reading others. Pops had always taught him how to speak 'face' and 'action' language. It held up to why he was alive now instead of dead in a ditch. With no woman. And absolutely none of that Pocky Kagome always brought with her.
"—So you see, that's all I said wrapped in a nutshell."
Damn it. He had missed the lecture once more. But then again, improvisation was always his corner, too bad it never gave him a child.
"Really? Your words were so beautiful, Kagome-sama."
"What? You mean how I said that the stars were like glowing moths?"
"Oh yes, it was most brilliant."
"My teachers don't seem to think so."
"Teachers?" he craned his neck, suddenly interested. Oh, how he was ever used to teachers patronizing him about the duties of monks! One of them even told him to lay off women for more than a month! Something about the 'morals' of man.
"Yeah. My geometry teacher's the one that hates me most, though. Once he even caught me sleeping! If he only knew the answer," she moaned, slamming her head in between her knees. Her blue eyes gazed fore longingly into the sky, watching as the breeze blew over the plains. She loved the way night animals would come, crawling out of their habitual homes to adventure within the night. Of course, animals never really did that, but nonetheless, she enjoyed thinking that way. It almost made her feel as if she were a mysterious hunter off the coast of the Amazon. But then again, looking on the side of reality, she was stuck with an antagonistic half-human boy, and a monk who could have made Play-Boy's dreams come true.
"Geometry?"
"It's made up of all these funky shapes and stuff. And you have to figure out the angles. And don't even get me started on Trigonometry! The rules of sine and cosine make me want to vomit!" she explained, hands gesticulating wildly in the air. Miroku laughed slightly at her impersonation.
"That seems quite abstruse," he managed to say, amused at her demeanor. He rubbed a spot in his chin thoughtfully.
"Oh, and what's even worse is English class," Kagome added, sniping in another emulation of her teacher, "she's always saying 'you need grammar lesson' and 'everyone here not good.' Does she even know that she's the one that needs lessons? The only reason I know how to speak fluently is because I was obsessed with the movies when I was a kid."
"That's," he shifted over towards her, "very interesting."
"Isn't it? But really, the worst class that I could ever be in is Physical Education. Not that it's bad or anything, but people are always wondering how I can shoot an arrow so well, or how I run so fast. I even put the boys to shame!" she grinned, putting her hands on her hips.
As a matter of fact, Miroku grinned as well. Her shirt was pulled back just a little more and he could see the faint outlines of her bra. One could say he was prone to noticing detail, he merely said it was a talent.
"Once I even beat the teacher!" she added in vain, flashing a set of pearly white teeth to the poor monk. Or not so poor monk. He was currently feasting his eyes out at the sight before him. The way her skirt rode up on her thighs. And also that wavy hair. Bounce. Bounce. He always liked wavy hair for some unknown reason; too bad it didn't like him. Life was cruel. Extremely cruel.
"Oh well, I want to go back to camp, I think I can get some sleep tonight," she began to stand up. He looked up at her, not realizing that whilst doing so, he would catch a glimpse at what was below the skirt. She, however, managed to fathom his thoughts and immediately stomped a foot on top of his back.
"Do you always have to do that?"
Was that disappointment in her voice?
"I mean, here we were having a good time and you manage to ruin it by looking up my skirt!"
And anger? That was nice, she cared.
"What is it with you and women anyway?"
Would you be willing to bear my children? We could have tons. And they'd all be so good-looking.
"Sorry," he managed to croak out, waving her off with a little 'victory' sign.
"Whatever," she huffed. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do out here."
"Which is?"
"Everything."
"That doesn't help."
Well, pertaining to the fact that he could now see her back sashay around in the dark.
"Hn. I think we're moving early tomorrow, so if you can't wake up, you'll have to."
"You wouldn't just leave me behind?"
"How could we? You're like our jester. Without you, it's boredom, boredom, and a little bit of Inu-yasha's temper tantrums thrown in every now and then. Oh yeah, and sometimes Kikyou tries to kill us too," she added jokingly, "besides, you keep us entertained."
"That's nice to hear."
"Well is it? Good luck on trying to sleep!" she waved off.
And he hadn't even managed to cop a feel either.
~*~
Mornings had never fully greeted themselves with a place mat for him. A more brutal form of the personification might have been a morning bashing him on the eye and trying to shoot him with a gun. But he liked to keep things simple. He. Did. Not. Like. Mornings. Added with the fact that he had had as little sleep as possible, he certainly hated them with a vengeance. If morning were a person, he would have shot it in between the eyes with his staff and replaced it with night. Unfortunately, under any circumstances, he was not able to do so.
"Miroku-sama," Kagome's voice faded in and out. His groggy eyes started to flutter open. He laid aghast on the ground, both because of the wild, shining, mocking sun and because of the painful rock wedged in his back. Somehow, he had managed to go all the way over from 'tuft of grass' to 'dry-mud-area' during his rest.
"Oi, monk, get up!" Inu-yasha's loud voice emanated from above. If he was not mistaken, the boy had a large pale of water in his hands.
"I'm up, I'm up," he groaned, sitting straight up as he hit the bucket with his temple. "This is why I hate mornings."
"You O.K?" Kagome asked, a hint of concern in her voice. She bent down as she began to examine his forehead.
"No."
Come on, closer, closer. Yes, that way.
"I mean," she added, "you might have a concussion or something."
It hurts when you touch it but it's worth it. What's pleasure without pain?
"You could seriously have some brain damage!"
With you like this, who cares?
"—Inu-yasha, take a look
at this."
Huh? Wait? Why Inu-yasha? Come back!
"What is it?" he asked gruffly.
And that was all it took.
"I'm just fine and dandy, thank you very much!" Miroku jumped up, knocking Inu-yasha onto the ground. With the pale of water. And, of course, the (not so) current bowl of ramen situated on his head. Whoever said it was easy to balance a bowl on top of your head while falling down should be shot. Oh wait, was that him who liked telling others that?
"You stupid monk! You made me miss my breakfast!"
"—Inu-yasha, we still have 385 bowls of ramen in my backpack!" Kagome gestured, showing the way to the bulky, overweight sack in the middle of the field.
So that's what that thing was. I was beginning to think it was a lonesome, corpulent demon.
"Fine, fine, but next time you're doing something like that, I ain't going to forgive you!"
"Leave him alone, Inu-yasha," Kagome glared, pulling him out of the way. "Besides, we've got to find Sango."
Come to think of it, where was the exterminator? He remembered almost too well, with a certain acute clarity, the day they had first met. That tight outfit really did suit her.
Of course it would suit Kagome better, but he was never one to complain, right?
"Didn't she go off somewhere to her village?" Inu-yasha asked, ears perking up.
"No. To find her brother. Jeez, do you ever listen?"
"To put it bluntly, no. To put it in more detail, no."
"At least you're honest."
"That's a debatable issue."
"Come on, we've got to get a move on. I sensed a shard around 5 miles from here."
Miroku growled as he received the baleful information.
Walking? In the morning?
Suddenly he knew why certain combinations were dubbed as 'clashed.'
~*~
"Oh stop being such a baby!" she complained, yanking him away from the pitfall. In the last few half-hours, he had fallen into 15 pitfalls, been bitten by 3 mosquitoes, and had stumbled on 4 branches. And she called him a baby? Well, he didn't much mind that. Change the few words in the front of the sentence and he would have been one, happy monk.
"We're almost there," Inu-yasha commanded, tapping the edges of his sword onto a smashed rock. One could say he was becoming impatient. Miroku, on the other hand, thought he was quite talented at becoming a comic. The way his ears would move, for once, and that big, baggy red outfit he so proudly donned on was amusing.
"Any more of these hard tracks?" he asked, glaring at Kagome as she stuck out her tongue.
"Nope."
"Good."
The stinging heat of the sun came to rest itself on his shoulders, nearly blistering his face with invisible marks. He wished he had his monk's hat right now, but that had been lost to a hungry monster years back. It had thought it was eating a pineapple; what was interesting was that it had actually apologized for its actions. If all monsters were like that, life would have been all the much better.
And suffice to say, the delinquent group were already at the mouth of the cave, looking deep into the dark.
"I heard a couple of people in the last village say this one was a weird guy," Inu-yasha informed with a debonair sort of confidence.
"Really?" he replied, supplying his ready trademark.
"What's this door doing here?" Kagome pointed.
"Don't know."
"Knock on it?" she raised her fist and punched on the wooden material.
"You answered your own question."
"Who dares disturb my," a few crashes as the booming voice came to open the door, "my home. I mean my lair. Sorry. Can we redo this scene?" A green head popped out.
Miroku remembered him from somewhere.
"I'm not very good at lines," it seemed to be a rather polite fellow, "and I'm not very good at this at all, actually," it explained. Blue lines. Red dots. A furry tail. Could it be? Was it?
"Heard you had a few shikon shards in there, buddy," Inu-yasha sized him up.
"That's right. When I wish on the ball I'm going to wish for a whole bunch of pineapples."
So it was the pineapple guy.
"You're the one that ate my hat, aren't you?" he found himself asking.
"Oh, I'm so very sorry! I knew I remembered you from somewhere! And the hat wasn't tasty either!"
"Hey, can you give up your shards for us?" Inu-yasha tapped his foot impatiently.
"No."
"But we'll wish for pineapples for you when we make it whole."
"No."
"And why is that?"
"Because mommy said that I shouldn't give things to strangers."
"I'm not a stranger anymore."
"Well," it pouted, "I think what she meant was very good friends," it began to ponder. Come to think, it looked like a miniature dinosaur.
"Oh. Then I guess we just have to take it from you," Inu-yasha pushed in, driving the creature back into its lair.
"That's not very nice mister!" it shouted, drawing out its weapon.
"Do I care?" Inu-yasha pounded on its head.
"You're going to pay for that," it admonished, changing its form rapidly. Miroku watched in awe as the creature began to transform. The wings, for one, were frighteningly large, as were its talons. He slipped on a chair as its beak began to crash down on the place, smashing more than a few china and valuable antiques.
"Bring it on," Inu-yasha growled, whipping out his sword. "Kaze no Kizu!" he yelled, making haste for the expected offense from his foe. "Shoot the arrow, Kagome, and Miroku, we need your Kazaana!"
"Roger that!" the girl began to notch her bow.
"And I'll double your wager," Miroku opened his seal, bringing the monster closer to his stance. It cried deafeningly as it was reduced to its former size.
"I lost again! No fair! No fair! No fair!" it bawled, slamming its fists on the floor.
"You know, you could just show us where the shards are."
And give me back my hat.
"Fine."
If I were going to wish for
anything, it'd be my hat. That thing smashed down the roof and now the sun is
slamming down on me. Hey! Kagome's shirt is see through!
"Here it is. Two
shards all for you," it saluted, dropping the material into Kagome's palm.
"You know, you're quite an interesting fellow."
Who stole my sole possession.
"Thanks, miss. You're quite pretty, you know."
"Really? Why thank you!"
She's flattered by him and not
me? What has this world come to?
"Come on, let's get out of
here," Inu-yasha sniffed, latching his arms onto her shoulders.
Yes, let's, before that thing takes away the only woman in this group.
~*~
"I think," Kagome groaned, soaking her feet in the cold springs, "that that was the weirdest battle I've ever been in."
"You're not the only one who thinks that," Miroku sat across from her, playing with the odd feeling of sad beneath his feat. It had been months before he was able to relax so assiduously. Between searching for Naraku and not dying prematurely by the excessive number of slaps he received, life was simply hard to handle. Of course, a good limerick or two often helped him, especially the comic antics of Inu-yasha and that Kouga fellow, but nothing beat sitting near a stream with a good lady to look at.
"You know, in my time they don't have this kind of stuff anymore."
"What stuff?"
"This," she widened her arms, "all of this nature. The trees. The streams. The lakes. Even the sky is different. Makes me want to stay here."
"Then why don't you?"
"I just can't. I can't leave everyone behind. They're my family. They always will be. And no matter how happy I am here, I know I'd regret it if I never see them again," she gazed disconsolately at her hands, "before I went here my hands were so smooth. No blisters. Now they're all calloused and hard, and I can't even grow my nails without them being torn apart by the strings on my bow. And it's not just that," she bit her lip, "before I came, I would primp my hair every day and have my mom dote on me like I was still her baby. And I'd eat grand-papa's cooking and listen to his stories everyday. Gods, I miss them."
"So—…"
"But," she interrupted him, "if it weren't for this I wouldn't have grown up at all. Look at me now! I can defend myself, I can withstand almost anything that I can think of! And I'm not as selfish as before, I can share, and I've learned that altruism really isn't that bad. And when I'm scared at night, I don't have to tell my mom that I am, I can calm myself down."
"That's--…"
"So really, in the end, I'm glad I came here," she drew her legs from the running water, "thanks for listening, you know? I can't talk to much of anyone else here. Inu-yasha would laugh at me, and Shippou, well he's just too young."
"You're--…"
"Welcome?" she laughed, "I always seem to interrupt you now, don't I?"
"Yeah."
"I guess I'll see you later. Have fun," she waved lamely, masking the evanescent smile on her face.
He looked around suspiciously before he rested his back on the ground, feeling the comfortable warmth of the soil seep through his cloak.
There was more to that girl than he had ever thought of.
~*~
WR: OK. It's 1.30 A.M. now. Jeez, I can't believe I just wrote that. *cat ears* Did Miroku demand to be written? No. Should I probably not write this fic and update other things? Yes. And as for Inu-yasha, will he just get bumped off the anime for a while so that the series could be titled Miroku? No. How about the 'genie' in 'The Sims,' will that give me a real life version of Miroku/Vash/Spike/Seifer? No. None of my dreams are coming true. I could cry.