AN: This idea was born of a song that I was writing, because I always find the romanticism in InuYasha. It inspires me to convey many ideas and views that I would not experience without it. It's dear to me in a lot of ways, and I try to reflect it in drabbles. For anyone reading Blood in the Honey, it SHOULD FINALLY be updated tonight if I can keep from passing out during the edit. Haha.
A retreat? What wondrous delight did so besieged his heart upon hearing the news. A taste of freedom from the infinite journey collecting fragments, of which could have only been comparable to a fallen star, was a gracious gift to his weary bones.
A pious man, which he pretended in a sheepish shroud, was readied for his own path to the mountains. His guardian would be pleased with the last givings of summer's sweets as he wrapped them in parchment.
The apple of his eye was sitting upon her fiery beast, dejected by the absence that was imminent. Her dark eyes faltered, leaving traces of her sadness bare upon her face.
The others had separated, spread across the country to lay beneath the quilt of white clouds and whispering leaves. It left the young taijiya begotten by the lot, submerged in her own feelings for the bastard monk parading in merriment.
His dark eyes flashed his sincerest of apologies as he jingled his brass staff against the balmy air. He promised his return would be swift, before the blank night took the magic from their leading companion.
Closing her eyes, she reopened them to find him dissolving beneath the declining hill. The houshi needn't look back to see the displeasure upon her gentle features, and took his time to breathe in the fresh air.
His life was never in vain, and he doubted that he would allow it be so. Sango, his darling blossom was still blooming; still not ripe enough to be harvested and removed from the garden.
A small grin creased his cherubic face as he ushered into a nearby town. Carts of plentiful delicacies and rations all lined the old dirt path on the backs of rickshaws.
Some were humble, other ornate with silk cradles with cranes painted along the fabric. Out of all of them rested a woman, sitting cautiously on the edge of the seat. She was beautiful. Of course, dear Houshi-sama could find beauty in most women. Not all, but most.
She had hair as dark as night, eyes that matched the soulless ghosts haunting the deepest layers of hell. Then, that smile that curved across her plump lips as she met his eyes, beckoning him with a bat of her lashes.
Who was he to deny a woman seeking his attentions? And, as it so happened, he rustled beneath the darkly colored robes until he was directly in front of her.
"What is it that you have requested of me?" Miroku asked smoothly, fetching a Mainland coin from his satchel.
"You are the man from the stories, are you not?" She asked softly, leaning back with her arms laced over a simple kimono.
The man furrowed his brows, aware that his sutras were steeled against his breast. "It depends on the circumstance in which you ask, my dearest." He said curiously.
The woman chuckled softly, reaching into the cart for a pipe. "I'll tell you that I do not pity a man with a destiny far greater than most men." She said sharply, kindling the old tobacco in the bowl.
"You know about my destiny, now? Are you a fortune teller?" The sheisty priest questioned, propping against the edge of the cart in intrigue.
"Oh, I'm much more than that Houshi-sama." Her long fingers pointed at herself with pride. "I'm Minase, banished from the golden city of Kyoto for my madness and debauchery!"
Miroku smirked boyishly, "And that makes you more aware of others fortunes? Yours was so astute and well handled that it lead you to the middle of nowhere, on the cusp of youkai war and between the capitols? You surely should have foreseen such a heinous thing."
Minase narrowed her eyes darkly, pressing her full lips into a residual pout. "Your tone is dishonorable for a man of such standing."
"I sit upon no throne."
"The fortunes say otherwise."
"And, my darling Minase, fortunes have all fated me dead at my age." Miroku retorted, fingering his chin. His eyes as blue as the sky hanging overhead.
"Fate is tangled with destiny, my priest. They are hand in hand lovers, yet only guide one another. Fate, as it were, is not destiny." Minase whispered, raising her fathomless eyes to the curt gleam of the sun. "Give me the endless palm, and I will seek out the end of your journeys."
Miroku recoiled, cradling his cursed hand against his bosom. His injury was ailed. There was no reason to trust this woman, as her magic seemed darkened. "I will not offer you my hand. I would rather live blindly. If you know the ending, worry is the only thing that will come. I have enough worry as the woman I desire has lost more than I could ever give her in return."
Minase glowered, shuckin a satchel at the man. "So be it. Take this and go. Perhaps
It will be useful for you if I cannot persuade a kindred traveler."
The monk rattled the contents and stuffed the bag into his robes. A few coins and rice rustled against his chest as his fingers wound around his staff. "I appreciate your kindness, my dear."
The woman lay down upon the cart's bench and rested her pale arm along her chest, gazing into the flurry of clouds. "Best be on your way. The moon is absent and the future-born is away. Protect what you will, but do not forget that you were destined for greatness. Only after you have suffered can you obtain it."
"I've suffered plenty." Miroku replied shortly, narrowing his eyes at her in bewilderment. No one knew of that weakness, or that the miko shipped away to other lands.
Minase rolled her eyes over the cherubic man and smirked coyly to herself. "The suffering..." Raising upon her elbows, the woman smiled. "Are you willing to lose her?"
Houshi-sama shook his head and waved his bound hand. "Do not try to scare me with your roadside fairy tales. I will never lose her."
With that, the man slithered away. Minase huffed as she watched his body become small, lost amongst a crowd of patrons at the old ochaya.
Such a foolish man, indeed. The woman he sought was withering. If he did not tend to her garden, she would die and be uprooted for the newest addition. Yet, it wasn't long before the houshi passed by, holding city sake and a bushel of wares. One a fine kimono, and the other a grooming comb.
His journey could wait for a moment, couldn't it? After all he was tired an worn from his plentiful travels. It would have been rude to leave his lady in wait.
Minase caught the offguard glance he shot over his shoulder at her as he scurried up the incline. A foolish man, perhaps, but a loving one at his best. A small smile crawled along her lips knowing that one curse had been lifted.
Fortunes be told, she mused. A lover is a life of its own. His dearest taijiya would be wrought with desire upon his return. Destiny was calling.