A/N - Hi guys :) I've been thinking of putting this story up for a while and since I haven't uploaded anything recently, here it is!
(This story is based mainly on domestic violence and other various emotional topics. That said...enjoy, and as always please review!)

Hurting Hands

Meeting Sango: A near death experience.

Miroku blinked, trying to focus his tired eyes on the ceiling above him. He winced as he felt a sharp pain shoot through his head. Lifting his arm, he gingerly touched a small spot above his eye where he thought, may be bruised. He sighed and rolled out of his bed, pushing the few blankets he had, aside. Kneeling onto his bedroom floor, he opened a small set of drawers at his bedside, and rummaged through them, quickly glancing at the alarm clock above him. 9:30? He suddenly jolted up and grabbed the alarm clock. Damn...Miss Takahashi is so gonna kill me! he thought, throwing his alarm clock onto his bed and pulling a black vest top and a plain pair of jeans from his drawer. Pulling his jeans on, he fumbled in his drawers again, searching for a belt. Finding nothing, he stood up and pulled on a open-checked shirt. Clothes...books...oh, and a birthday card for Shima, he made a quick mental check-list as he pulled his hair back and shoved a newly sealed card into his backpack. Grabbing a pair of socks, he leapt up and made his way to the door, when he suddenly noticed his belt. Staring at it for a moment, he couldn't make out why he'd left it there, when he suddenly heard footsteps outside his door. Automatically, he dodged out of sight, and pressed himself up against the wall.

'Miroku?' A small voice asked. He relaxed instantly. Opening the door, he found a small woman standing there and as always, she smiled at him. That fake smile she always uses, he thought sadly.

"Christine, I'm so late for school..." He told her, pulling one sock over his foot. Miroku had always referred to her as Christine, even though she had adopted him when he was eight. Even now, he was eighteen and he still didn't feel comfortable calling her 'mother' yet. Christine was thirty-one, blonde haired and brown-eyed. The complete opposite to Miroku's dark blue eyes and mid-length black hair, which also made him feel relatively distant from her. Still, he respected her and he was grateful for everything she done for him. He offered her a smile as he pulled a sock over his other foot, leaning against the door-frame.

"I really have to go." He said as she stood watching him shift uncomfortably. She nodded and handed him some money. Miroku held his hands up.

"That's okay Christine, I'll just-" Christine took his hand and placed the money in his palm.

"I had to ask Nathan for this. Please take it." She said, almost a demand. Miroku nodded, and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. Making his way downstairs, he caught sight of Nathan, Christine's husband, sitting in front of the T.V, drinking. He was watching some mindless Japanese news channel, something Miroku couldn't understand as Nathan couldn't understand it. He really was an idiot. Miroku could never understand why Nathan had even agreed to moving to Japan with Christine andwhy he hadn't bothered to learn their language. Miroku couldn't understand half of what he said, whether that was a result of his drunken, slurred speech, or the abusive English he preferred to use. Miroku walked out the front door and slammed it shut, feeling once again guiltily for leaving Christine alone with him. Suddenly remembering the time, he broke into a jog, and made his way up the street.

Miroku sprinted across the main road, made his way down a cobbled ally way and just about crossed the street as a bike sped past him, making him fall back against a parked car. Miroku winced as the sound of brakes screeched in his ears. He managed to stand up on shaky legs, and peered up as someone spoke.
"Hey...are you okay?" A brown eyed girl asked. She sat, one leg resting on the ground, one still on the pedal of her huge black bike. Miroku nodded.

"Yeah, I'm fine. You might want to go a little slower on that thing though..." He said, staring in disbelief that it was actually a girl that was travelling at that speed, and who almost killed him. She frowned.

"I'm late, so I have every right. As are you, so you best hurry up." She said, before speeding off again. Miroku blinked.Right, of course. Late. It was probably well into the morning lessons by now. He watched as the bike flew out of view.

"Sango...something..." He muttered to himself, trying to recall the brown eyed girl from his class. He shook his head and sighed as he made his way back up the road.

"She didn't even apologise..." He grumbled to himself.

. . .

[ Later that morning... ]

Miroku lazily pushed open the door to his history class, to find Sango standing before their teacher, looking, well, pissed. The reason being of course, that that teacher, just happened to be Miss. Takahashi and Miroku was far from in her good books at the moment. Miroku tried to sidle round the classroom to his seat next to Shima, when the door slammed shut behind him, blowing his cover.

"Miroku Houshi!" A shrill voice rang out. Everyone in the room turned to look at him and Miroku rolled his eyes.

"Yes Miss?" He asked, innocently. Sango watched as the attention turned from her, to Miroku. He grinned stupidly and waved to her.

"Ah yes. I'm late..." Miss Takahashi put her hands on her hips.

"Very late, and can I add this is the third time this week!" She shouted. Miroku cocked his head to one side, thinking, and suddenly held out his hand.

"Fifth, actually...you were off, Monday morning, and-" Miss Takahashi slammed her book down on the desk and looked at him straight.

"Enough of the smart talk boy! Get to my office NOW!" She shouted. Miroku made a saluting gesture and walked out. The class giggled at Miroku's behaviour, and Miss Takahashi hushed them, before then sending Sango to her office after him.