Live For…
By: KitsuneArasi
I don't own the series.
"Ichi…"
It was amazing, just standing here watching them, these children.
Their parents had been through numerous hardships and strange misadventures. Their father had been waiting for death since his birth, and their mother had been the intended target for everything nightmares were made of.
"Ni…"
Of course, everything was all right now. Their parents struggles had come to fruition and, soon after, so did the first of their children.
"San…"
Katsu, their first son, was strong, calm, and kind, and had a penchant for looking out for his family. His younger twin, Seiji, was mischievous, witty, and playful.
"Shi…"
Mana, their younger sister, was shy and sweet—her daddy's little girl. Currently, she was counting against the tree as her brothers hid.
"Go…"
Ah, but her little staring session had to end now. They had to come inside sometime. She was about to open her mouth to call to them, but she stopped as she took another glance at Mana. So there he was.
Her lips curled into a smile.
"Roku…"
Strong fingers covered Mana's eyes and a warm chuckle drifted through the air, "Found you."
"'Tou-san!"
Mana laughed as her father moved to lift her into his arms, resting her against the purple folds of the monk's robes he wore for his duties as a shrine priest.
The boys grinned and ran to their father's side as he nodded toward the house, "I think Mama's waiting for us, ne?"
The small mob headed toward the shrine house, the boys hugging their mother to the best of their ability before going to wash up, Miroku releasing Mana so she could run after them.
The two proud parents watched them go before Miroku bent to kiss his wife's forehead and wrap his arms around her, one resting on the swell of her stomach.
"Tadaima, Miroku." She smiled up at him.
"Arigato. How are you feeling, Kagome?"
Kagome shook her head at his father-instincts, brushing his bangs aside with a gentle hand, "I feel like I miss my feet."
He laughed and ushered her inside, kissing her soundly on the lips before going upstairs to change into something more modern for dinner.
It had been several years ago…
Kagome had woken up in the middle of the night during a heavy thunderstorm. Miroku had already been sitting by the softly glowing fire, staring into the dying embers and comparing their lifespan to his own.
She watched quietly as he brought his cursed hand in front of him, tracing the fingertips of his other hand along the fabric and over the empty void, hissing when they met with the edge.
She didn't know at the time what had moved her, but she found herself dropping to her knees before him, tears burning her eyes, and bringing his cursed hand to her lips to press a kiss to the cloth-covered emptiness.
Lowering his hand to hold it in her lap, her stormy blues met his burning violets.
"Sometimes," he said hoarsely, "I think it would be so easy to just end it. Just think of how selfish I'm being. I know that if I ever find a woman to bear my child, he'll suffer the same way I have—and I still want it. Strange, isn't it? I want to destroy the life of something that should be so precious to me. I must be a monster."
"No. That's what makes you human."
He shook his head, "No. No, you don't understand, Kagome. I—"
"Then make me, Miroku. Make me understand. Make me a monster."
And they just sort of…happened.
From that night on, they'd grown closer and closer, and finally, on the day of their final battle, Miroku was thrown to the ground.
Kagome had run to him as the others screamed for her to stay back, for him to stand and fight.
He'd expected sentimentality. He'd expected tears.
He certainly hadn't expected her to smack him, and he certainly hadn't expected her to press his hand to her stomach and ask, "Do you want this baby or not, you lazy bum?"
And the rest, as they say, is history.
Naraku died, the world was secure, and the women therein no longer had to worry for the safety of their behinds.
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A/N: I'm considering making this a series of oneshots. What do you think?