Original posting: 5-29-06
Second posting: 3-28-10
Thief
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He had taken her heart without permission—that's what Sango liked to think.
It was in his nature. He had always taken things that did not belong to him. He managed to get them a place to stay in the richest house in each village, and servants offered him food, which he accepted with pleasure. But it was all stealing in the end, Sango figured. Although the food was given freely, it was under the terms that Miroku would exorcise a demon for them. Most of the time, that demon did not exist.
Yes, it was in his nature to steal. It was in his nature to be good with words. It was in his nature, in his bloodline, to be lecherous.
It was his other curse, what should have repelled Sango. It definitely had, especially at the beginning. And she still didn't like being groped, but her blood no longer ran cold in shock when she felt his fingers massaging her bottom. She would only sigh, and turn around, and slap him, as she had to. It had taken a long time for her to figure out why he did it, even after he had asked her to live with him.
She knew it was to keep distance between them. It bothered her how much he thought of his kazaana, worried that it would consume him before their promise could be fulfilled. She was bothered that he never shared his feelings on this, not even with her. But then, those were terribly private feelings, and they weren't Sango's burden to bear.
She also knew that if she had half a brain in her head, she wouldn't have let herself become attached to the monk in the first place. And truly, she had tried her best. She yelled at him and slapped him around, and sometimes even gave him inconsiderable whacks with her boomerang, but he had never once raised his voice or tried to fight back. He took his punishment with dignity, because he knew it was what he deserved. Still, against her better judgment, her eyes had filled up at Hakureizan, and she'd cried and clung to him, and she knew then that the truth was irreversible.
And still, it was hard to understand exactly how he felt, because it wasn't in his style to use words. Sometimes she thought she sensed it- in a flickering glance or a brief touch- but these things were insubstantial and frustrating. Someday, she would have to ask him forwardly. But that someday was still far away.
He had stolen her heart, and there was nothing she could do but wait and see what he'd do with it.
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