Miroku's worrying about me again. I notice him glancing at me, his brow furrowed. I feign ignorance.
I wish I could open up to him but I can't.
I deliberately keep my face blank, withdrawing into the safety of my thoughts. Kohaku… Not a day goes by when I don't think of him and wonder whether he's alright. Whenever I see him, I see a mindless obedient servant of Naraku, not the happy boy he was. It breaks my heart.
Unshed tears well up in the corners of my eyes and I blink them away. That bastard not only has Kohaku under his control, but me as well. For all my prowess as a warrior, I am powerless against my brother, the living reminder of my failure to protect my loved ones.
I cannot hurt my Houshi-sama the way I've hurt my loved ones. Kami-sama help me, I can't. He is my rock; he has done so much for me without expecting anything in return. I cannot show him any more of my vulnerability: I cannot let Miroku know he is the other chink in my armour.
I sense his growing proximity and I inhale, hoping my impenetrable mask is in place. I feel a familiar hand on my ass and whirl around, slapping him hard enough to send him tumbling to the dust. I storm off growling, angry at him for his lecherous ways and yet amused by his persistence.
Suddenly, I realize that I am no longer sad.