The Monk's Last Option
Disclaimer: I do not own anything except perhaps a ship named Mir/Rin, for it seems I am quite lonely on this ship.
It was a beautiful day in the mountains. Beautiful meaning mists swirling around a mountaintop shrine overlooking the long lake in the valley below. Cold and beautiful it was, breathing in cold mountain fog early in the morning after stepping from the mountain shrine. A monk dressed in purple and black recommenced his long journey westward.
He was finally alone, at the end of it all, this single monk. He had always believed in his heart that it would come to this, but he could never have predicted under what circumstances. His life flashed before his eyes.
Images of a young boy cradling his hand, sealing the gaping hole within it with a rosary. A young man who gave up on living and turned to humor and thievery to carry on, hiding behind his nonchalance as a means of coping with what he saw as his inescapable fate. The same man toying with all women who crossed his path, never serious, never really caring. Kami, what a shallow man he was in those days, if only to escape the ever growing reminder of his mortality.
And then he had begun to become a more decent man, after he had met them, his traveling companions. He had always assumed that Inuyasha and Kagome would live happily together after everything, they seemed to go together so well. And then Sango had joined their company, bringing with her shadows of death not unlike Miroku's own. He had been drawn to her, but he had not succeeded in the end. Had things turned out differently, perhaps, but now there was no chance for that future.
During the quest for the jewel shards and the destruction of Naraku, Miroku watched his initial suppositions about Inuyasha and Kagome be dashed to pieces. Inuyasha still pined for his undead miko and Kagome, tired of Inuyasha's unwillingness to let the dead remain dead had found love in an unlikely source. The Lord of the Western Lands had taken an interest in her, first as a mother figure for his then young ward, then as something more. It was around that time that Miroku had first really noticed the girl who followed Sesshoumaru and had made a complete fool out of himself in his usual manner.
The monk smirked to himself as he remembered that one incident. He had seen a young girl dressed in an orange and white checked kimono. She was perhaps a dozen years younger than himself, not an entirely impermissible age difference he had thought cheekily, although she was only ten or so at the time. He had not remembered that she was Sesshoumaru's girl-child, so he had asked of her what he asked of most fair maidens he came across. He still remembered how her eyes had widened when he took her hands and asked her, in all seriousness, if she would bear his child.
It was only Kagome's intervention that had saved him from being violently sliced to pieces on that day. He had not spoken to Rin again after that, not until after the fall of Naraku, avoiding her on pain of evisceration.
He had always expected that he would end up with Sango, after Naraku, if there was to be a time after Naraku for him. If the kazaana didn't kill him first. And then the final battle was over and he was miraculously still alive. But there were others who had not been so fortunate. Among them were Kikyo and Kohaku. Both Inuyasha and Sango had been devastated and had found comfort in those who best understood their losses. They had been drawn together by mutual death experiences. And thus, Miroku had lost all of the eligible ladies he could ever have imagined himself with before the last battle.
In the last year, Sango and Inuyasha had finally moved on from their mutual grief. They had finally married and settled down in Edo. They were expecting their first child in a few more months.
Now Miroku was alone, truly alone. Sesshoumaru and Kagome had married not long after the fall of Naraku. They had finally settled down in a castle in the west, those two and their adopted children. Kagome had always made clear that her friends would always be welcome under her roof, and so it was for this dwelling that Miroku was bound. After all, he did not wish to remain truly alone forever.
After many days, Miroku came at last to the castle of the Lord of the Western Lands. It was larger and more imposing than he had remembered it.
Kagome welcomed him in with open arms. Sesshoumaru remained aloof and high and mighty as per usual. It was good to see Shippou again though, and Rin.
Miroku settled down in the castle, gradually making a life for himself there. He wasn't sure how exactly it happened, but he eventually fell into the role of tutor for Shippou and Rin. Although Rin was now fully grown, in her late teens or early twenties surely, Shippou was still a kit, for youkai age far more slowly than humans.
Miroku took up the teaching of Shippou and Rin mostly observed. Together they kept Shippou from falling asleep during history lessons, learned properties of herbs, and worked on calligraphy and the never-ending kanji. Miroku started teaching them staff fighting. Everything was going well. And then one day, Miroku reverted back to his old habits.
It started out innocently enough, as it always did with Miroku. He was conversing with Kagome. Sitting the castle's gardens, they were sharing stories of old times, and the story of Miroku's near-death experience came up. Well, one of the many stories of Miroku's near-death experiences. This was the story of Miroku nearly being violently sliced to pieces by Sesshoumaru after innocently propositioning his ward.
"I wonder what would happen if I tried that again, now?" Miroku wondered aloud.
Kagome smirked, an idea taking root in her mind. She had not thought of it before, but now the topic was broached, it did not seem that terrible, for all it was Miroku. He had gotten far less lecherous since the fall of Naraku. Although perhaps that had been for lack of available women rather than for increasing maturity, Kagome could never really be sure with Miroku.
Kagome broke into a devious smile. Of all the people she could see her surrogate daughter ending up with, Miroku… would be alright. She would rather see Rin with Miroku than the stuck up inuyoukai stable master at any rate, who for all he bonded with Rin over Ah-Un, was still a stuck up inuyoukai. At least Miroku wasn't as stuck up, even if he did have certain other issues.
"Just see that your cursed hand does not wander and don't proposition again her unless you're actually serious," Kagome replied to Miroku. She rose from her seat and departed from the gardens plotting as she went, leaving an unusually pensive Miroku behind her.
How long Miroku sat there lost in thought, he could not say. He only knew that night fell slowly over the garden while he was lost in thoughts of wide brown eyes and unquenchable laughter, soft songs and gifts of flowers. He thought he was dreaming when her voice broke through his thoughts of her.
"Kagome-sama sent Rin to look for you, Miroku-sama," she said. "Have you been sitting here long? It does not seem that comfortable to sit on a cold stone bench all day."
"Rin?"
"This is for you, Miroku-sama, Rin thought that you might like it."
She came and sat next to him on the bench, offering a single purple flower. It was a dark purple lily flower, and in the night, its center appeared black. Maybe it was. Miroku wondered why she had picked this particular flower, if it had been a conscious choice.
"Rin, oughtn't I to be the one offering flowers to you?" Miroku queried, "You are far fairer than I."
He leaned over, taking the flower from her outstretched hands. Slowly brushing aside her hair, he slipped the lily flower behind her ear. He smirked inwardly. Her hair was nice and soft. The lecherous part of him wondered how soft other parts of her would feel against his wandering hands. She blushed prettily, smiling.
"Arigato, Miroku-sama!"
She looked so womanly to him in that moment, under the stars in a garden with a flower in her hair. The lecherous side of him won out. Miroku's wandering hand, long deprived, sought that of which it had been denied.
Rin's soft squeak and intake of breath he had predicted. He had been expecting a slap as well, but what he had not been expecting was for her to clutch to him and lock her wide surprised eyes with his. She took him seriously, it seemed.
As he leaned in towards her, the slap he had come to expect did not come. No large weapon descended upon his head. He slowly closed the distance between them.
She gasped as his lips met hers and clung tighter to him. He kissed her slowly and languidly, his left hand cupping her face as his cursed hand caressed her satisfyingly round backside. She offered no resistance. She acted like a young girl who had never been kissed before. She probably hadn't, Miroku realized.
As he pulled away slowly to look into her face, his hands sought hers. He looked down at her, steeling himself to his signature move. And this time, with all of his other prospects long gone and with a life of solitude as his most probable other option, he meant every word of it.
"Rin, will you do me the honor of bearing my child?"
A/N: This story was inspired by a small plot bunny that gnawed at my mind asking me what would happen if after Naraku, Sesshoumaru ended up with Kagome, a common ship, and if Inuyasha ended up with Sango, as is also not unheard of? Who would be left for Miroku? I wondered and finally came upon Rin, who would by that time have grown to a lady. So, curious, I searched Miroku/Rin on and came up with four results, only four, and one of them was actually MirSan. Even crack ships deserve a small crew, in my opinion, so that they do not sink from neglect. To keep ship afloat, I wrote this fic.
Inspired in part by a drawing by LazyJenny called R.I.P. Miroku showing the monk propositioning Sesshoumaru's young ward.
R&R mina-san! Let me know what you think!