A/N: Yet again, I fail at writing a 500 words drabble, i'm 70 words too long. Characters do not belong to me, the words do. To the people waiting for this serie of one-shots to get to the 'interesting' pairings, sorry it's taking me so damn long hahahaha
Youth and their foolish hope. In your stupid adolescent mind, you would have forever hunted with your dad. You would have forever lived amongst your kin, walked the same path your father had. Something somewhere went very wrong and the happy future you could see ahead of you came toppling down. And then. Then you met them, you met her and you met him.
His hand met your bottom and yours, his face. This was the very first contact between you two. A lecherous monk. You had never known someone like him could exist, you told him so one day. He asked if you meant it in a good or bad way. Bad way, of course. Oh but he knew better, he said. His actions were infuriating to you and often you left him behind, knocked out. He deserved every single blow. But the cursed hand! he would remind you every time. His hand was cursed, not his mind, it was just sick. He was a sick perverted monk. One day, you told him he should try to follow the doctrine of hedonism. Your hand was beginning to ache and his face, well you could hardly remember if his cheek had always been so red. And then, it happened.
The girl from the future, the sister you shared no blood nor time line with, left. Like that, she was standing next to you and then wasn't anymore. You knew the day would come that you'd see her gone. You had no real hopes anymore, just gloomy presages. And then, he reminded you that you weren't alone. He didn't touch you, he didn't hold you, he shrugged. You hadn't foreseen this. Everyone went their own solitary routes, except you two.
You remained together. One day, he asked if he could hold your hand, you let him. One other day, he kissed you and you kissed back. Little by little, he made you forget he was cursed, that your future together was doomed, that death follows you every where. And then, all came back in a rush. Your first and only child was born and indeed, she changed all around you.
The beads adorning his hand were now what they should have always been, alien. When you think about it, his very self was alien as well, or he was a very good actor. He never needed any Noh mask, his face hardly showed any other emotions. This goofy smile, apologetic grin, teasing voice and glittering eyes. He was all laughter and warm mornings. You're nothing but tears and foggy starless nights. He forgot all about his future because he wanted to live it to its fullest. But you aren't like him, he tried to mold you to accept his way of seeing things. It went well for a few years though failed in the end.
Everything failed. They both remain dead and will be forever. Walking dead and haunting presence. Kohaku and Miroku. You will keep mourning two phantom graves for the rest of your life. Tonight, as you cradle your child, you wait for the wind to die out before allowing yourself to sleep. You thank Kami sama as you hold your only daughter closer to your chest. Naraku's death was what kept you all going for so long, too much time spent hoping for too much and nothing. No one really knew his death would change anything. Now, the curse is lifted. Sayonara, my love.