Unforgivably short.
And uh... no plot.
Alone.
Miroku had always been alone to a certain extent. Because it had always been for the best. Everything, was always for the best.
Because it was a good excuse for leaving.
People who got to close could get hurt, in more ways than one, and Miroku couldn't chance it. So he didn't. He excelled at getting himself into dangerous situations, but getting other people into them was out of the question.
Because he never, ever wanted it be his fault.
So it came as no surprise when the houshi chose to travel alone again.
Because . . . because it was getting too dangerous. And they were getting too attached. And that was what was so dangerous.
So he said goodbye to the taijiya, to the houshi, to the kitsune, and then he said goodbye to the girl.
To that one stupid, innocent, pretty little girl who cried and asked him not to leave. She touched his hand, the cursed one.
He winced.
"Why?"
He winced again. She was touching him.
"Why the sudden interest, Kagome-sama?"
Because really . . . why? She had never seemed to need Miroku, and now... suddenly she... did?
She stumbled backwards, had he really just asked that? Because . . . because . . .
He . . .
So with teeth and fists clenched she glared daggers at Miroku.
"Because you stupid..." she faltered, "monk. I . . . I care about you. And if you leave then . . . then . . . you know . . ." She was flushed, and was waving her hands wildly around.
She was flustered, and Miroku loved it.
Miroku grinned, one of those really evil, handsome, charming grins, and said a little too innocently, "Then you won't have a handsome, strong, brave monk to keep you company on all those lonely nights?" The statement had the desired effect.
Kagome's eyes widened considerably, then narrowed.
Uhm . . .
"Miroku, you're . . . impossible, honestly."
She huffed, and then turned around quickly.
But wait, hold on, what?
She had dropped the honorific twice from his name? So, it was serious.
But he liked the sound of his name in Kagome's mouth.
That perfect, pretty, little mouth. Miroku stopped.
That, that right there was exactly why he had to leave.
Kagome, her back still turned, peeked over her shoulder, awaiting some kind of reply. But Miroku was distracted because . . . oh oh, dear, it seems Kagome's short little kimono had been caught on a little twig that just happened (thank Buddha) to be sticking out of a nearby bush. And it was giving him a delightful little peak of . . . oh, oh so that's what color undergarment she wore.
She shifted slightly, (drat) and his all too pleasant view was gone.
Kagome spun around to face the monk. She poked his chest accusingly and glared up at him.
"Here is the part where you say something annoyingly clever and suggestive."
He grinned down at her, "Am I that predictable?"
Kagome shrugged her little shoulders and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, "Once a lecher, always a lecher."
Miroku laughed, and replied mockingly, "Kagome you're . . . impossible, honestly."
Kagome snuffled loudly, and then all of a sudden she was . . .she was sobbing?
Into his chest? She made some kind of vain attempt to beat on his chest, and Miroku let her. Because he was . . . he was making her cry?
He... never wanted to make her cry. That was Inuyasha's job. She wasn't supposed to be crying over him, because she wasn't supposed to care.
"Kagome . . ."
"You have to visit every day."
"Please . . . Kagome."
"And when you finally have children, you have to promise to bring them to visit too."
And then, she wasn't beating on his chest, she was fisting his robes, and clutching them to her. She snuffled loudly.
"Do you promise?"
"Kag . . ."
"Do you promise me?"
Miroku sighed. "Yes. I promise."
Kagome was silent. There was something different in the air between them and something was missing. And they both knew it. And there's was nothing they could do.
"Why do you have to go?"
"Because some things, Kagome," Miroku paused, he bent down and kissed her forehead lightly.
"Some things are just for the best."