Head Over Feet
Chapter Ten
By Seabreeze
A/N: Hopefully I will get this chapter out a little faster than I got the last one out. Thanks for reading and for your feedback!
Disclaimer: see previous chapter.
- - - - - -
"Hello, Sango." Miroku said quietly.
"Hi." Sango replied, her voice higher than usual. "Yeah, Kagome. I figured. Thanks, gotta go."
"Wait, what do – " Kagome started, but Sango hung up, feeling a twinge of regret for shutting off her friend.
"So, you work for Kagome now." Miroku said in the same quiet voice.
"Yeah…" Sango said, unable to formulate much else in her head.
"Kind of a step down from manager to assistant, isn't it?"
The question had not been insulting, but strangely, Sango felt anger well up inside her.
"It pays better," she spat, wishing she had the strength to walk away again.
"Not as fulfilling, though, is it?" Miroku asked casually, as if Sango had not just snapped at him.
"Maybe not, but at least Kagome treats me like a friend." Sango said, feeling hardness in her chest and stomach. The surprised look on Miroku's face – as controlled as it was – told her she had hit her mark.
"I tried – " Miroku began, desperation edging his tone.
"You failed." Sango cut across him. "Excuse me, I have a meeting with my boss." She flew past him.
"This is fate, Sango." Miroku called after her, surprising her enough that she stopped and almost turned around. "And I'm not giving up. I'll see you around." She could tell by his voice that he was smiling, and the thought made her burn.
Whatever, Miroku.
- - - - - -
"You ran into him?!" Kagome demanded later that night as Sango helped her back her personal bags for the tour, which was to begin in a few weeks' time. It turned out that Miss Fujiyama had been in talks with Miroku's agency for quite a while, and things had just recently fallen into place.
"Yeah," Sango said, folding a green tank top and dropping it into the nearly-empty suitcase. "Right before you told me the tour was joined with his."
"Oh my gosh, how unlucky!" Kagome exclaimed as she dug through one of her drawers for her favorite pair of sweat pants.
"Tell me about it." Sango agreed. "Kagome… how did you know?"
"How did I know what?"
"That I'd be upset by the tour news."
"Oh…" Kagome said, turning to face her friend. "Well, it was mostly just… just a vibe I got, Sango. You were so eager to take the job with me and you just seemed… hurt. I don't know how to explain it. Like the job as Miroku's manager took a lot from you. I don't know why, but I thought it might be rude to ask."
Sango reflected on this – she regretted now not watching herself more closely, to ensure that no one else knew about her biggest secret. It was uncomfortable to realize she had been more transparent than she knew. She was so lost in her thoughts, that it was a long time before she heard Kagome clear her throat.
"Um… Sango, do you mind if I ask what happened?"
Sango's head snapped up, and she looked at Kagome, for a minute contemplating.
"No," she said slowly. "I was in love with him."
Kagome gasped, then; "Was?"
How sharp she was! Sango tried to ignore the panic rising up in her throat.
"Was," she confirmed, thought she couldn't quite meet Kagome's gaze. "For a long time. From the moment I met him, I guess."
"And he didn't love you back," Kagome whispered.
"No," Sango said. "I don't think so, anyway. Fame made him an entirely different person. I don't think that person could reciprocate the feelings I had."
It was quiet as Sango started on Kagome's t-shirts.
"If I had known…" Kagome began, sounding helpless.
"You know you don't have control over your tour, Kagome," Sango reminded her. "Besides, maybe he's right. Maybe this is fate. Maybe…" she sighed. "Maybe I'll start seeing him for the jerk he is. Finally."
"And you're sure he doesn't return your feelings?" Kagome prodded.
"I don't know," Sango answered, hiding her irritation. "But I'm done with all of that. I'm working for you and we're touring Europe, and who knows what life holds for me now?"
Kagome watched her for a moment, and then clapped her hands together.
"That's the spirit!"
- - - - - -
The only hard part of being on tour with Miroku, it turned out, was having to watch him perform. Sango was so busy the rest of the time – as Kagome's assistant, she was basically the fill-in girl. She had helped the roadies unload the giant vans; she had helped the sound board people during the sound check; she had worked out leg cramps of back up dancers…the major downside with being so busy, however, was she hardly got to see the grand foreign cities they visited. Kagome made a point of pulling Sango out of whatever job she was doing, at least once in each city, to demand that Sango "go shopping" with her. They ate at famous restaurants and went sight seeing, and in fact did a little shopping.
With her new paycheck, Sango could almost keep up with Kagome's spending habits – they bought matching pearl rings at one of Paris's most famous jewelry stores, and spent almost an entire afternoon at Harrod's in London.
Sango had the idea that Kagome was going out of her way to keep herself and Sango out of Miroku's way – although she was entirely pleasant when they did bump into each other.
While Kagome was onstage, though, and there was not much for Sango to do, it was hard to avoid him. He would always seem to appear at her shoulder, cracking a joke and scaring her half to death. As creative as Sango was at avoiding him, she could not seem to lose him for longer than 15 minutes.
What was almost worse was the flowers left for her in Kagome's dressing room at the end of every performance. Each bouquet had a different set of flowers; those native to whichever country they were in. In Paris, it was white lilies. In Madrid, it was carnations. With each bouquet was a card with a lyric or two of his own inside – some she was familiar with, and some she was not.
She's so close
And a million miles away
She's right here
Distanced by a day
---
How lovely when she smiles…
---
And I cannot get her out of my mind
I run, but she's never far behind
---
This rose blooms
But the blossom I'll never see
You are the blood in my veins
The sight in my eyes
It was impossible to hide the flowers from Kagome, who was clearly containing squeals of pleasure at Miroku's grandly and culturally romantic gestures. The flowers – and especially the notes – made Sango feel queasy. For one thing, she had never been the kind of girl to be swept off her feet. For another, the thought of Miroku all together was an unsettling one. She couldn't bear to keep the flowers in her own room (shared with Kagome), though neither could she truly throw them out. Kagome had the brilliant idea to give them out to the hardcore fans as the tour was packing up to head off to their next destination, and so in that way, Miroku's flowers were respected, but never loved.
- - - - - -
On one particularly hectic evening in Amsterdam, after Kagome's portion of the concert had finished, a member of Mirkou's tour party had come tearing into Kagome's dressing room, begging for Sango's help.
"Please, Miss Sango, I know you're technically done for the night, but Miroku's assistant just called in sick! We rely on him so much, everyone's in a panic!"
This was clearly the truth – panic was practically rolling off the roadie – but Sango was instantly suspicious.
Still, she couldn't turn down this poor man. She gave Kagome a dark look and then nodded at the man.
"Of course, how can I help?"
- - - - - -
It was not ten minutes in to helping out Miroku that Sango was no longer suspicious this was a plot.
She knew it was a plot.
Miroku's assistant, a good-humored drunk named Mushin, apparently did a lot of things for Miroku that Sango had never been asked to do for Kagome.
Things like spritz his bare chest with water to make him glisten on stage.
Things like combing his hair.
Things like massaging his temples to relax him in between sets.
She had done it all without (much) complaint, though the insensitivity of it all was more and more astounding to her as the night went on. He knew – he knew! – she was in love with him, or had been at some point not too long ago. He was teasing her, egging her on… making fun of her. She held her tongue, however, until they were left almost completely alone in his dressing room, where Sango had been instructed to button a shirt up while Miroku "rested" before his final set.
Miroku was conveniently bare beneath the shirt.
"What the hell are you doing, Miroku?" She hissed after her fourth button, the rage making her feel light-headed even as she worked.
"Mushin called in sick, what else was I supposed to do?"
"Oh, right!" Sango snarled. "And how much did you pay him to 'call in sick'?"
"Sango, I'm hurt," Miroku said, his face the picture of solemnity. "How you could even suggest – "
"Oh, cut the crap, 'cause I'm not buying it. I never did," she snapped. Beneath her hands his chest rumbled once, though when she glared up at him, his face was unchanged.
"I'm insulted," she continued. "How long have you known me? You think seeing you half-naked is going to make me give in? Do you really think your body is that good, Miroku? Flash some pecs, and I'll succumb to your wishes?" she was babbling, which could happen when she went into a rage. He was grinning now, a soft thing that confused her and made her stomach a little uneasy.
"So it's not working, then?" he asked so quietly that she barely heard him.
"No!" she retorted, taking a break from buttoning his shirt to thump him on the chest. "And stop sending me flowers!"
"They're beautiful, aren't they?" he asked, watching her face intently.
"They're flowers." Sango sneered.
"I handpick them all from the flower shops," Miroku added. Sango pursed her lips.
"Look, Miroku… you can prance into my room naked carrying all the most beautiful flowers in the world you picked from your own, self-grown garden, and it's not going to change anything."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying give up." It was harder to say than it should've been. She finished the top button, right at the base of his throat.
"Alright," Miroku agreed, his voice heavy in a way that made her heart flutter. "No more flowers."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Can I go now?"
"Sure. Just one last thing before you do."
"What?" Sango asked, wondering what on earth he could ask of her now, other than to clean up his dressing room, which was a bit of a mess. She would refuse, of course.
"Come here."
It was an odd request, and his eyes were funny in a way that told her nothing. Sango skipped a beat in the conversation.
"I am here," she blinked.
"Closer." The depth in his voice and eyes was hypnotizing, though as she stepped forwards, she asked;
"Why?"
Her feet kept moving until he could reach out and touch her, which he did.
"Please, Sango," he said, taking her wrists in his hands. "Open your eyes against the fear and see how it could be."
Before she could work out what that meant, exactly, he had pulled her close, and he was kissing her.
The contact, his lips on hers, shot electricity down her body, shocking and painful and exhilarating.
Her heart raced as she realized that this was the moment she'd been waiting on for years but thought would never come, and the softness and gentleness of his kiss coaxed her eyes closed. For long moments she just felt: butterflies in her stomach, a haze in her head, and an angel on her lips.
He pulled away before she was ready, and lips warmed by her own brushed her ear:
"Think on it, love,"
- -- -
A/N: Read and review, kids
The next chapter I haven't even begun yet, but it should nonetheless be out in a timely manner. It's kind of the chapter that inspired the whole story. So, look forwards to that :)