Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha.
Slumped over his desk in a drowsy half-snooze, Yamaguchi Miroku didn't notice the female missile hell-bent on chewing him out until she kicked his chair leg. Lifting his head, he pushed his hair out of sleepy violet eyes and smiled charmingly up at the woman looming over him.
Her hair was scraped back in a severe samurai-tail, brown eyes were fiery and enraged, pale cheeks flushed a tempting pink, hands clenched into fists which trembled at her sides. Apparently she'd sprinted all the way to his classroom from the karate club as her feet were bare and her training gi was rumpled.
"You!" she exclaimed vehemently, jabbing him harshly in the chest with one long finger.
"Me?" he queried affably, tilting his head to one side.
"You're Yamaguchi Miroku-sempai, right?" she demanded, leaning into her prod to emphasise her interrogation. Miroku, who was at a very advantageous angle, took advantage, but was foiled by a vest top under her loose gi. He sighed.
She frowned. And glanced down and drew back her hand, "You Hentai!"
Unfortunately for the righteous girl, her hand was caught and restrained by the sitting male. Miroku smiled at her shocked look and, as ever, took advantage, tugging on her captured wrist so that she tumbled off balance.
The girl, now firmly ensconced in Miroku's lap, growled up at him and attempted to get off of him, or at least extract her hands from his grasp. Unfortunately for her, he wasn't budging, just smiling down at her in a highly infuriating manner.
"Now," Miroku demurred, bumping his forehead onto hers in an attempt to distract her from her attempts at escape, "you are?"
"Arai Sango," she told him grudgingly, still attempting to free herself. Miroku grinned crookedly and let her escape. Distrustfully, she backed away until she was a safe distance from him and glowered at him.
"Pleased to meet you," he said, bowing his head and smiling affably.
The glower intensified.
Violet eyes laughing, he ran a hand through his loose dark hair and reclined lazily in his seat. "Was there something you wanted?"
At that, she drew herself up proudly, her back forming a proud line and her chin tilting haughtily. "I challenge you!"
"A challenge?" Miroku asked, genuinely surprised.
Her high ponytail swished as she nodded seriously. "You..." here she broke off to blush adorably, ducking her head bashfully. Miroku sat forwards in his seat, entranced by the sight. "You were peeping into the changing room!"
Miroku blinked. Sango's eyes sparked when she eventually met his gaze. Her angry stare and still flushed cheeks were awfully tempting.
"Ah," he murmured, smiling slyly, "are you sure?"
"When I went outside to check, you were walking away from the building!" she retorted waspishly.
Violet eyes narrowed wryly. "I was meeting someone."
"Liar!"
He spread his hands in a gesture of innocence. "You are free to ask your club's captain; he was the one who invited me there. I'm new to this school – I didn't know that that door led to the changing rooms."
Brown eyes narrowed distrustfully. "There's a sign on the door, you can hear us from outside and the captain wouldn't associate with someone like you!"
Miroku stood slowly, amused at how she backed up – apparently ready to fight. "You are right on two counts, but the third, your captain was attempting to draft me into the club," here he paused to smile slowly, looking her up and down appreciatively, "and I'm just now considering the option."
Ignoring his insinuation as best she could, Sango ignored her heated cheeks and snarled. "So you did peek!"
"I am a man," he said languidly, stepping closer and prodding her forehead with one long finger, "and I take advantage of every opportunity," he murmured, inflecting as only he could, almost whispering the last into his ear.
Sango pushed against his chest, attempting to create space between them, but he didn't budge, he simply smiled and moved away under his own power.
"Your angry expression is alluring," he demurred, a small smile playing on his lips.
Sango gaped, stunned at his audacity.
With a finger on her chin, he closed her mouth.
"Don't you have to be at your club, Sango-chan?"
Dumbfounded, wrong footed and disorientated, Sango – for possibly the first time in her life – retreated.
Miroku, left alone in the empty classroom, consulted his watch. It really was time for him to be getting back, but, he was still happy he'd stayed a little late. An encounter such as that one would have been a shame to miss. Most women were unremarkable, easily played with and abandoned; uninteresting. But Sango, she'd already piqued his interest and made him wonder.
He smiled. That kohai was too delectable for her own good.
Wrapping his scarf around his neck, Miroku quit the shop where he worked a part-time job and stepped out into the bitter chill of the Tokyo evening.
Exhaling, he watched his breath crystallize in the air languidly and, frowned as he noticed the boy sat on the bench across from him. Or, rather, the female dressing in male clothing.
"Sango-chan?"
The girl glanced up, startled, and Miroku took the chance to steal the baseball cap from her head, watching as her ponytail fell down.
"Are you stalking me?" she demanded suspiciously.
"You still angry about the changing room fiasco?"
"Do you really have to ask?" she demanded, folding her arms huffily.
Rolling his eyes at her obstinate antics, he caught her wrist and dragged her from the bench. She tugged futilely against his grip, embarrassed at the attention they were attracting from passersby.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm cold and hungry," he informed her, still striding on ahead of her, "so I'll treat you to say sorry."
Ducking her head to hide her elated blush, she mumbled, "You should treat us all, baka."
Miroku chuckled and glanced back at her with a warm look in his eyes. "Nope, I'll only treat a special girl."
Special?
The ramen place certainly hadn't been what she was expecting, but he seemed to relax instantly as he entered, inhaling in a wolf-like manner.
"Ramen?"
Miroku laughed. "One of my old friends from my last school was a Ramen fiend, and his habits rubbed off on me," he told her with a wink before turning to the old man at the counter and ordering for them both.
"Hey kid," the old man laughed, "back again?"
Miroku grinned. "Of course, this place is the only place to buy ramen."
Sango laughed as the old man serrupticiously gave them huge portions, he mimed shushing her. "This kid and his friend are our best customers," the old man confided.
Miroku separated his chopsticks and rolled his eyes. "You're exaggerating, old man."
"I'm not," the old man chuckled, "Did he tell you, when the shop was in trouble last year he and his friend worked here part time without pay?"
Sango blinked, looking to the side at Miroku who was rubbing his nose and looking bashful.
Maybe he's not such a bad guy, helping this Ossan out like that, she mused, chewing thoughtfully on her noodles.
When they left the shop, Sango recoiled from the harsh wind outside and backed into Miroku. With a quirk of one brow and a smile he earned a blush. When he took off his scarf and knotted it around Sango's neck her heart thumped unevenly. And, when he claimed her hand and told her he'd walk her home, he earned himself something much more precious.
Sango barely even noticed the walk home, her thoughts whirling in incoherent circles that revolved around her sempai. But when they drew to a stop in front of her house, she noticed that their hands separated.
"Well, I'll see you tomorrow, Sango-chan!"
Sango watched his back with wide forlorn eyes as he walked away down the street.
"Miroku-sempai!"
Miroku paused, rotating on his heel in time to catch Sango who crashed into him and shoved him harshly. Scrambling and regaining his footing, he looked at her confusedly.
"Sango-chan?" he asked gently.
"You're cruel," she told him, eyes fiery as she looked up at him, "you don't like me at all... doing all this and making me hope..."
Miroku gathered her hands in his and bumped his forehead down onto hers gently. "What makes you say that?"
"Sempai is a pervert; you'd have made a move on me if you really liked me!"
Miroku blinked, bemused, and watched as she turned an adorable shade of bright red. "Um... not that I—"
Whatever she'd been about to say was cut short when Miroku closed the distance between them and claimed her lips with his own.
Reluctantly he pulled back and smiled at her. "I'm glad I don't have to restrain myself then, Sango-chan!"
Sango frowned at him. "Do you—"
"I like you, Sango-chan," Miroku told her seriously, "but I thought you'd hit me if I tried to touch you."
Sango blinked in amazement, touched at the fact he'd been considerate to her feelings.
"But, now that I have your permission, I don't have to restrain myself!"
Sango squeaked as his arms wrapped around her. She melted into his kiss but froze as his hand came to cup her bottom.
Nursing a bruised cheek, Miroku caught her hand before the fuming Sango could retreat indoors. "Sorry, I'll restrain my passion a little, shall I?"
Sango narrowed her eyes at him and kissed his bruised cheek. "You'd better."
And she ran into her home, leaving Miroku stood there looking decidedly poleaxed.
A/N: Reading too much shoujo manga, moi?
... Yes. Yes I am.
This was originally posted on the 28th February 2011 for the Fire prompt over on mirsan_fics.
Thanks for reading!
