Fate
"Is this what fate must bestow upon me?"
"Have I done something to anger those who reside above?"
"Ojisan...How could you have let this happen? Do I deserve a horrible death as to be drawn into my own wretched hand?"
"I am not even permitted enough time to emit the feelings that I have harbored towards a certain young woman..."
"I am merely the age of twenty-two...and here I stand, at the site of your grave, Oto-san."
"I know that with great difficulty Kagome-sama and Shippou-kun will recover from the tragic news of my death...It is Sango-chan and InuYasha-kun I worry the most about."
"InuYasha-kun would be devastated at losing his best friend...I'm sure. He would act as if I were a burden that he and the others were forced to carry upon their shoulders, but inside, he would feel regret that he could not have come to me, he would apologize for every harmful word that he has said to me, and he would constantly blame himself that he couldn't have slain that bastard Naraku."
"Sango-chan would grieve, but act like it was nothing. In the time a night when the others were all dreaming, she would sneak out and head to the river where she would glare at the silver moon and wish that she could have prevented all of this from happening."
"A tragic loss today will be...what a shame that the others could not bid me farewell as I depart from this world."
Miroku glanced down at his right hand, a painful smile forming on his face. His death would have never come this fast, if only he had been more careful. The void in his hand had been cut so many times, that it had grown accustomed to it. With that, it had tripled in size too quickly, and he was forced to die a death much sooner than he expected.
With a heavy sigh, he slowly made his way down into the giant pit. He sat cross-legged, just as his father had done. He then started to chant a simple, yet powerful spiritual barrier that was sure to protect everything that resided around him.
There was a sudden pulsation from his right hand. The glove that he once wore to cover it, protected by prayer beads seemed to just disintegrate into thin air. There was then black surrounding him as the vortex began to pull him in with ease. He went willingly, hoping that his companions would not miss him much.
In a great sudden flash of black and white, the young monk was gone, with no trace to indicate that he had ever been there, except his staff that had a small piece of paper, with a small poem imbedded on it.
Five hundred seventy years into the future
(Kagome's time and now she has aged)
In a local museum in Tokyo, Japan, a young, fourteen-year-old girl pushed her grandmother into the room that held ancient history of feudal Japan. The girl situated the wheelchair so that her grandmother was able to see the artifacts.
"Obaasan, this is it! The one I was telling you about! It has the poem and everything!" she said to the eighty-nine-year-old woman as she began to jump up and down with excitement. The old woman simply nodded and then averted her attention to the guide.
"Here we have a perfectly preserved staff from what we believe to be a monk. With all of the scratches and the wear on the base of it, we have concluded that he traveled much."
"When we had discovered this, we found a small, black box with a poem to which he would have given to his lover."
'A staff that was used daily found with a poem which would have been given to his lover...It's Miroku-sama's! I remember the poem that he wrote for Sango-chan, and then he left us and we all believe that he was sucked into his wind tunnel...he didn't even say goodbye...'
"The poem is written as followed:
'Sitting in the shadow
Concealed in the night
My mind filled with wonder
My heart filled with fright
When did this happen?
What shall I do?
Am I afraid that maybe
I've fallen in love with you?
These childish fears
Won't help me at all
So maybe if I tell you
My heart will never fall
Within this small poem, you'll find
I'm saying I don't know what to think
For my heart controls my mind'. "
"Kimiko-san...I have a story that I would like to tell you. You can believe it or not, but it is true. Let us go home while I tell you the story that all began on my fifteenth birthday..."
Fate...it is a gift and yet a curse, just like the young monk's right hand.
Disclaimer: InuYasha belongs to Takahashi Rumiko, as well as Ranma ½ and Maison Ikkoku.