AN: Thanks to all who reviewed for the past couple chapters. Um... let's see, oh yeah, Kaerra: When Hojo played courageous knight, Miroku was further into the arcade and I guess didn't realize that Sango had followed him. He was drawn like all guys to the sounds of death and destruction emanating from the games. ^_^ So sit back and enjoy this latest!
Future Lovin' Part 4
Breakfast of Sango and Miroku's second morning in Tokyo was tense. Sango was ignoring Miroku, still miffed over how he had treated Hojo. Miroku attempted to make amends occasionally, but after being rebuffed ten times, he had given up and was eating in sullen silence. Mrs. Higurashi was not sure why her young guests were so upset with each other, and Souta looked from face to face, confused. Grandfather had yet to appear in the kitchen, and as the hour wore on, it didn't look like he would be there before the others left.
Souta was the first to leave, tramping rather unwillingly upstairs to collect his bookbag and setting off for school. Mrs. Higurashi was next. Food in the household was getting low, and so a journey to the grocery store was in order.
After washing the breakfast dishes, Mrs. Higurashi turned to Sango and Miroku and offered to take them with her. Sango declined, claiming exhaustion from yesterday's shopping trip; Miroku shook his head, not giving a specific reason why (although Mrs. Higurashi suspected Sango's decision had decided for the young monk.) Before she left, she handed each a small piece of paper with two rows of strange symbols written neatly across the top.
Miroku tilted his head to the side as he studied the symbols. "Higurashi-san, what exactly are these?"
Mrs. Higurashi looked from him to the paper, and then back again before realization dawned. "Oh! Arabic numerals. And that is the shrine's phone number," she pointed to the top line. "And that's my cell phone number. I'm sure you two will eventually get bored of sitting around and will wander off." She waggled her finger at them. "I have no problem with that because 1, I am not your mother. 2, In the feudal era, you're both legal adults anyway so you can make your own decisions. And finally, I trust my daughter enough to let her traipse through demon-infested lands for weeks on end. I should certainly hope her friends are as trust-worthy as she is.
"But if you do get lost, find a pay phone and-" She snapped her fingers and exclaimed, "You'll need money too, of course! Anyway, find a pay phone and dial in the numbers. Hopefully, you won't get lost though." She glanced at her watch. "Oooh, I need to get to the store before the meat sale ends." She grabbed her purse, handed Sango and Miroku a fistful of bills and coins, and jogged out the door.
Sango and Miroku glanced at each other and the money in their hands, confused. Sango broached a question. "What exactly is a pay phone?"
Miroku shrugged. "I have no idea, but it must be pretty common. If we need to, we'll ask someone. So," he sidled up next to her and slipped his hand onto her rear, "where are we going?"
Eyes flashing angrily, Sango turned and slapped him. "Nowhere! I want to stay here today! And I certainly don't want to go anywhere with a pervert like you!"
Miroku raised his hand to his stinging cheek and watched her stomp out of the kitchen. A minute later, Grandpa walked in, smiling slightly. "Women, eh?"
Miroku grimaced. "Yeah, something like that."
The kitchen was engulfed in silence except for the sound of the old man pouring cereal into a bowl, until he looked up, a conniving grin on his face, and said, "You know, there's a festival tonight. I'm told that young people often go on- shall we say, dates there."
Miroku stared at the old man. "Oh?"
*****
The day passed at a snail's pace for Miroku. Several times he had tried to broach the subject of the festival to Sango, but each time Sango would interrupt him before he actually said anything, call him a "lousy, rude pervert, nothing like Hojo," and stalk off, slamming a door or two on her way out. (Sango had discovered earlier that morning that hinged doors were excellent for slamming and now thought of them as great anger management devices.)
Sighing in resignation, Miroku sank on to the couch, his bed for the past two nights. Sango would not listen to him, and nothing under heaven would-
"Jii-san! I'm home!" Souta called out as he entered the house.
Miroku grinned. So the child was back from school, surely he would want to go the festival. Smirking, the monk intercepted Souta in the kitchen. "Souta," he bent down so he was at eye level with the boy and wrapped an arm around his shoulders companionably, "I've heard that there's a festival tonight..." He trailed off, waiting for Souta to catch on.
Souta nodded eagerly. "Yeah! All my friends are going, but Momma says I can't go by myself, and she's at work right now. No asking Jii-san, either. Hey! Could you take me?"
Miroku's smile grew. "Well, I could. But it would be much funner if Sango came with us, ne?"
Souta returned the grin. "Yeah! I'll go get her!"
Miroku followed the boy's flight up the stairs with his eyes. There was no way Sango would be able to resist the boy's pleading. Victorious, Miroku swaggered away to prepare for the festival.
*****
"How did you convince me to come?" Sango asked rhetorically as she strolled next to Miroku through an aisleway between the rows of food and game booths. She was alone with the houshi and none too happy about it since Souta had ditched them to be with his friends.
Miroku simply grinned at her, still as content as the cat that ate the canary, completely full of himself and his victory.
Sango rolled her eyes and scanned the booths as they passed. She saw foods both recognizable and strange and various games of skill most involving throwing balls at bottles or moving targets.
Scattered throughout and between the booths were odd machines that whirled and spun and rose and fell and moved in any direction one could possibly think of. From the sounds emanating from those people aboard the "rides," Sango was not sure whether they were meant for amusement or torture. As they passed a bright yellow spinning ride, one of its arms swept towards them and then abruptly away. Sitting on a seat carved into the limb, a woman yelled in fear. Sango decided. Torture, definitely a torture device.
She was startled when Miroku grabbed her hand with his unbroken one and rushed forward. Forced into a jog to keep up, Sango yelled at him to stop. The houshi ignored her request and kept running, dodging around people and through booths until he came to an abrupt halt.
Sango glared at him and yanked her hand free. "What is your problem?"
Miroku turned an expression filled with wonder on her and pointed up. "We're going on that!"
Sango's eyes followed the direction he was pointing, and her heart sank into her stomach. "Nonono!" She began backing up, waving her arms frantically.
Miroku glanced at the giant spoked wheel for a moment, considering his next course of action. He turned back to her. "And here I thought you wanted to experience the stuff in Kagome-sama's world. I guess I was wrong."
Sango crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes. "Houshi-sama, I know _exactly_ what you're trying to do. It's not going to work."
The monk sighed, apparently defeated. "Fine, then. It's just if you want to live here, you will have to face different challenges. Conquering something as mundane as that," he indicated the Ferris wheel with a toss of his head, "is the first step towards your goal."
"Sango!"
Stiffening, Miroku's head turned slowly to the left and, much to his annoyance, there stood exactly who he thought it was.
"Hojo-san!" Sango returned the greeting of the pox-ridden, flea-infested, unwashed, vapid- Miroku reined in his ire. After all, they had only just met the simpleton yesterday, surely Sango would simply smile at the boy and then come with him on the Ferris wheel.
To his further irritation, Sango did not just stop at a simple greeting. She actually walked over to the usurper and latched onto his ARM! Hojo seemed surprised at her actions, but he didn't push her away. Miroku seethed.
Sango smiled at the boy, her eyes lighting up happily. "Hojo-kun..."
Miroku clenched his teeth. Hojo-KUN?!
"Would you mind if I wandered around with you? I really don't know where to begin with a festival as large as this one."
Hojo returned her grin, but a sudden worried expression replaced it a moment later as he looked towards Miroku. "Isn't he your boyfriend, Sango?"
Miroku was just about to scream, 'YES! So get your filthy hands off _my_ woman!' (He had learned something from watching Inuyasha and Kouga bicker.) Sango replied first though in the negative, and so Miroku was left to fume behind them as Sango and the putrid vermin on her arm walked off towards the game booths.
Miroku noticed that Hojo seemed to be steering Sango to a particular booth, and he stepped to the side so he could see around the couple- er, he growled, Sango and weasel-boy. From what he could tell, the point of that particular game was to hit little, he squinted, what appeared to be badly carved beavers or maybe squirrels with a large cloth-covered mallet. Lifting his eyes to the ceiling of the booth, he discovered that the prizes were overly large pink hearts. He snorted. What was Hoho trying to do now?
He leaned against a support pole of a booth across from the whack-a-small-furry-animal game and crossed his arms over his chest, settling in for the show.
Hojo disengaged his arm from Sango's grip, stepped up to the booth, handed the game-owner some money, and picked up his weapon. As soon as two other fools- er, players joined him, the whacking commenced.
Whackwhackwhackwhackwhack!
Twenty seconds later, it was over. The badly carved furry animals never stood a chance. Hojo was the winner. He handed his newly won heart to Sango. (AN: That's a weird sentence, ne?)
Miroku pushed off of the pole and headed over to them. As he neared, he glanced over Sango's shoulder at the cloth heart and the phrase "For a special girl" embroidered in white thread in the middle. Blech, that was too... corny for words. Repressing the urge to vomit or curl his lip in disgust, the monk grabbed Sango's arm.
"So... ready to go on the Ferris wheel yet?"
Sango shook him off. "Hojo-kun is still showing me around."
Hojo held his hands up in front of his chest. "Nono, it's all right. If you would rather go with Miroku-san..."
"No!" Sango grasped his hand again. "I always go with Miroku. This is actually quite a nice change."
Miroku stiffened, hurt. Oh, so it was a _nice_ change that she was spending some time with a guy other than him. And it was probably a _nice_ change that she was receiving sappy cloth hearts rather than bloody demon ones. Well, he could be _nice_ too.
Scanning the area quickly, he saw a stuffed cat that bore a striking resemblance to Kirara set on the ground near a tall pole with colorful flashing lights buzzing up and down its length. So the cat only had one tail rather than two, surely Sango missed her feline companion enough to not care. He watched a tall, muscle-bound man advance on the pole and take a firm grip on the hammer before bringing it crashing down on the platform beneath. A ball shot up the pole, went up, up, and then came crashing down before it even reached three quarters of the way to the top. The man sighed and tried again with the urgings of his buddies, but failed a second time and walked away in defeat.
Miroku concluded that the purpose was to hit the ball hard enough that it went to the top. He knew he could do it. If he could hold off the Testusaiga with his staff, then surely he could win a stuffed demon cat for Sango by whacking some ball up a vertical post with a sledgehammer. Glancing behind him to check on Sango's and Hojo's position- they were facing away from him, standing in line for some sort of food- he stepped up and hefted the hammer.
The muscle man's buddies noticed him and guffawed, trying to rationalize the thought processes of a young, light-built man who just saw their friend beaten by the game. Their mocking soon stopped however when a loud bring! rang over the other festival sounds. Much to their surprise, Miroku set the hammer down, picked up one of the stuffed cats, and sauntered off, flashing a grin at them as he passed.
Sango and Hojo were just leaving the food line when he rejoined them. Sango's eyes widened in surprise when he handed her the large stuffed animal. "What's this?"
"Oh," Miroku shrugged nonchalantly, adopting a careless tone, "it's just something I saw over there." He waved towards the pole where the strong man's buddies were now trying their luck. "Thought you'd like it."
Sango nodded, wearing a full-blown smile. "I do. Thank you, Miroku."
Miroku grinned despite himself and his false disinterest. His happy expression faltered when Hojo recaptured Sango's attention by waving the food they had bought in front of her face.
"You said you've never had funnel cake, so you have to try it."
Sango eyed the fried pastry and passed the giant stuffed Kirara back to Miroku. "Please hold this for me for a minute, Miroku."
Hojo watched her face intently as she tested the funnel cake.
Sango made a pleased noise in the back of her throat. "This is good!"
Miroku winced, having flashbacks to the previous day's feeding session at the food court. If Hojo even thought about hand-feeding Sango, he swore he would deck him. Hojo, however, gave the jealous monk no reason to attack. He even went so far as to offer him some of the pastry. Miroku waved it off, scowling. This guy was unbelievable, too friendly for his own good and too naive to realize that he was stealing Sango away from him.
Miroku was thinking about broaching the subject of the Ferris wheel again in an attempt to peel Sango away from Hojo when they turned into a new aisle. Sango's gaze fell on the carousel, and Miroku never had a chance to ask.
"Let's go on that!" the demon huntress exclaimed, picking up her pace. Hojo kept step with her, but Miroku dropped back, slowing down.
Noticing his absence, Sango hesitated, half-turning to look back at him. "Miroku? You coming?"
Miroku shook his head. "No. I'm going to go find Souta. It's getting late, and the boy needs to sleep sometime."
"Oh, right then." Sango rotated back to Hojo. "I guess this is good night, Hojo-kun."
Hojo opened his mouth to reply, but Miroku interrupted, "No, Sango. You can stay. I've just been a damper here tonight anyway. I suppose I'm not really in the mood for a festival," he spoke as he walked away. "Have fun," he tossed over his shoulder, ignoring the bitter taste the words left on his tongue.
It was amazing how such a promising night could be dashed to pieces so horribly and swiftly, made all the more horrible by the aggressor's complete obliviousness to his own destructive powers.
Future Lovin' Part 4
Breakfast of Sango and Miroku's second morning in Tokyo was tense. Sango was ignoring Miroku, still miffed over how he had treated Hojo. Miroku attempted to make amends occasionally, but after being rebuffed ten times, he had given up and was eating in sullen silence. Mrs. Higurashi was not sure why her young guests were so upset with each other, and Souta looked from face to face, confused. Grandfather had yet to appear in the kitchen, and as the hour wore on, it didn't look like he would be there before the others left.
Souta was the first to leave, tramping rather unwillingly upstairs to collect his bookbag and setting off for school. Mrs. Higurashi was next. Food in the household was getting low, and so a journey to the grocery store was in order.
After washing the breakfast dishes, Mrs. Higurashi turned to Sango and Miroku and offered to take them with her. Sango declined, claiming exhaustion from yesterday's shopping trip; Miroku shook his head, not giving a specific reason why (although Mrs. Higurashi suspected Sango's decision had decided for the young monk.) Before she left, she handed each a small piece of paper with two rows of strange symbols written neatly across the top.
Miroku tilted his head to the side as he studied the symbols. "Higurashi-san, what exactly are these?"
Mrs. Higurashi looked from him to the paper, and then back again before realization dawned. "Oh! Arabic numerals. And that is the shrine's phone number," she pointed to the top line. "And that's my cell phone number. I'm sure you two will eventually get bored of sitting around and will wander off." She waggled her finger at them. "I have no problem with that because 1, I am not your mother. 2, In the feudal era, you're both legal adults anyway so you can make your own decisions. And finally, I trust my daughter enough to let her traipse through demon-infested lands for weeks on end. I should certainly hope her friends are as trust-worthy as she is.
"But if you do get lost, find a pay phone and-" She snapped her fingers and exclaimed, "You'll need money too, of course! Anyway, find a pay phone and dial in the numbers. Hopefully, you won't get lost though." She glanced at her watch. "Oooh, I need to get to the store before the meat sale ends." She grabbed her purse, handed Sango and Miroku a fistful of bills and coins, and jogged out the door.
Sango and Miroku glanced at each other and the money in their hands, confused. Sango broached a question. "What exactly is a pay phone?"
Miroku shrugged. "I have no idea, but it must be pretty common. If we need to, we'll ask someone. So," he sidled up next to her and slipped his hand onto her rear, "where are we going?"
Eyes flashing angrily, Sango turned and slapped him. "Nowhere! I want to stay here today! And I certainly don't want to go anywhere with a pervert like you!"
Miroku raised his hand to his stinging cheek and watched her stomp out of the kitchen. A minute later, Grandpa walked in, smiling slightly. "Women, eh?"
Miroku grimaced. "Yeah, something like that."
The kitchen was engulfed in silence except for the sound of the old man pouring cereal into a bowl, until he looked up, a conniving grin on his face, and said, "You know, there's a festival tonight. I'm told that young people often go on- shall we say, dates there."
Miroku stared at the old man. "Oh?"
*****
The day passed at a snail's pace for Miroku. Several times he had tried to broach the subject of the festival to Sango, but each time Sango would interrupt him before he actually said anything, call him a "lousy, rude pervert, nothing like Hojo," and stalk off, slamming a door or two on her way out. (Sango had discovered earlier that morning that hinged doors were excellent for slamming and now thought of them as great anger management devices.)
Sighing in resignation, Miroku sank on to the couch, his bed for the past two nights. Sango would not listen to him, and nothing under heaven would-
"Jii-san! I'm home!" Souta called out as he entered the house.
Miroku grinned. So the child was back from school, surely he would want to go the festival. Smirking, the monk intercepted Souta in the kitchen. "Souta," he bent down so he was at eye level with the boy and wrapped an arm around his shoulders companionably, "I've heard that there's a festival tonight..." He trailed off, waiting for Souta to catch on.
Souta nodded eagerly. "Yeah! All my friends are going, but Momma says I can't go by myself, and she's at work right now. No asking Jii-san, either. Hey! Could you take me?"
Miroku's smile grew. "Well, I could. But it would be much funner if Sango came with us, ne?"
Souta returned the grin. "Yeah! I'll go get her!"
Miroku followed the boy's flight up the stairs with his eyes. There was no way Sango would be able to resist the boy's pleading. Victorious, Miroku swaggered away to prepare for the festival.
*****
"How did you convince me to come?" Sango asked rhetorically as she strolled next to Miroku through an aisleway between the rows of food and game booths. She was alone with the houshi and none too happy about it since Souta had ditched them to be with his friends.
Miroku simply grinned at her, still as content as the cat that ate the canary, completely full of himself and his victory.
Sango rolled her eyes and scanned the booths as they passed. She saw foods both recognizable and strange and various games of skill most involving throwing balls at bottles or moving targets.
Scattered throughout and between the booths were odd machines that whirled and spun and rose and fell and moved in any direction one could possibly think of. From the sounds emanating from those people aboard the "rides," Sango was not sure whether they were meant for amusement or torture. As they passed a bright yellow spinning ride, one of its arms swept towards them and then abruptly away. Sitting on a seat carved into the limb, a woman yelled in fear. Sango decided. Torture, definitely a torture device.
She was startled when Miroku grabbed her hand with his unbroken one and rushed forward. Forced into a jog to keep up, Sango yelled at him to stop. The houshi ignored her request and kept running, dodging around people and through booths until he came to an abrupt halt.
Sango glared at him and yanked her hand free. "What is your problem?"
Miroku turned an expression filled with wonder on her and pointed up. "We're going on that!"
Sango's eyes followed the direction he was pointing, and her heart sank into her stomach. "Nonono!" She began backing up, waving her arms frantically.
Miroku glanced at the giant spoked wheel for a moment, considering his next course of action. He turned back to her. "And here I thought you wanted to experience the stuff in Kagome-sama's world. I guess I was wrong."
Sango crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes. "Houshi-sama, I know _exactly_ what you're trying to do. It's not going to work."
The monk sighed, apparently defeated. "Fine, then. It's just if you want to live here, you will have to face different challenges. Conquering something as mundane as that," he indicated the Ferris wheel with a toss of his head, "is the first step towards your goal."
"Sango!"
Stiffening, Miroku's head turned slowly to the left and, much to his annoyance, there stood exactly who he thought it was.
"Hojo-san!" Sango returned the greeting of the pox-ridden, flea-infested, unwashed, vapid- Miroku reined in his ire. After all, they had only just met the simpleton yesterday, surely Sango would simply smile at the boy and then come with him on the Ferris wheel.
To his further irritation, Sango did not just stop at a simple greeting. She actually walked over to the usurper and latched onto his ARM! Hojo seemed surprised at her actions, but he didn't push her away. Miroku seethed.
Sango smiled at the boy, her eyes lighting up happily. "Hojo-kun..."
Miroku clenched his teeth. Hojo-KUN?!
"Would you mind if I wandered around with you? I really don't know where to begin with a festival as large as this one."
Hojo returned her grin, but a sudden worried expression replaced it a moment later as he looked towards Miroku. "Isn't he your boyfriend, Sango?"
Miroku was just about to scream, 'YES! So get your filthy hands off _my_ woman!' (He had learned something from watching Inuyasha and Kouga bicker.) Sango replied first though in the negative, and so Miroku was left to fume behind them as Sango and the putrid vermin on her arm walked off towards the game booths.
Miroku noticed that Hojo seemed to be steering Sango to a particular booth, and he stepped to the side so he could see around the couple- er, he growled, Sango and weasel-boy. From what he could tell, the point of that particular game was to hit little, he squinted, what appeared to be badly carved beavers or maybe squirrels with a large cloth-covered mallet. Lifting his eyes to the ceiling of the booth, he discovered that the prizes were overly large pink hearts. He snorted. What was Hoho trying to do now?
He leaned against a support pole of a booth across from the whack-a-small-furry-animal game and crossed his arms over his chest, settling in for the show.
Hojo disengaged his arm from Sango's grip, stepped up to the booth, handed the game-owner some money, and picked up his weapon. As soon as two other fools- er, players joined him, the whacking commenced.
Whackwhackwhackwhackwhack!
Twenty seconds later, it was over. The badly carved furry animals never stood a chance. Hojo was the winner. He handed his newly won heart to Sango. (AN: That's a weird sentence, ne?)
Miroku pushed off of the pole and headed over to them. As he neared, he glanced over Sango's shoulder at the cloth heart and the phrase "For a special girl" embroidered in white thread in the middle. Blech, that was too... corny for words. Repressing the urge to vomit or curl his lip in disgust, the monk grabbed Sango's arm.
"So... ready to go on the Ferris wheel yet?"
Sango shook him off. "Hojo-kun is still showing me around."
Hojo held his hands up in front of his chest. "Nono, it's all right. If you would rather go with Miroku-san..."
"No!" Sango grasped his hand again. "I always go with Miroku. This is actually quite a nice change."
Miroku stiffened, hurt. Oh, so it was a _nice_ change that she was spending some time with a guy other than him. And it was probably a _nice_ change that she was receiving sappy cloth hearts rather than bloody demon ones. Well, he could be _nice_ too.
Scanning the area quickly, he saw a stuffed cat that bore a striking resemblance to Kirara set on the ground near a tall pole with colorful flashing lights buzzing up and down its length. So the cat only had one tail rather than two, surely Sango missed her feline companion enough to not care. He watched a tall, muscle-bound man advance on the pole and take a firm grip on the hammer before bringing it crashing down on the platform beneath. A ball shot up the pole, went up, up, and then came crashing down before it even reached three quarters of the way to the top. The man sighed and tried again with the urgings of his buddies, but failed a second time and walked away in defeat.
Miroku concluded that the purpose was to hit the ball hard enough that it went to the top. He knew he could do it. If he could hold off the Testusaiga with his staff, then surely he could win a stuffed demon cat for Sango by whacking some ball up a vertical post with a sledgehammer. Glancing behind him to check on Sango's and Hojo's position- they were facing away from him, standing in line for some sort of food- he stepped up and hefted the hammer.
The muscle man's buddies noticed him and guffawed, trying to rationalize the thought processes of a young, light-built man who just saw their friend beaten by the game. Their mocking soon stopped however when a loud bring! rang over the other festival sounds. Much to their surprise, Miroku set the hammer down, picked up one of the stuffed cats, and sauntered off, flashing a grin at them as he passed.
Sango and Hojo were just leaving the food line when he rejoined them. Sango's eyes widened in surprise when he handed her the large stuffed animal. "What's this?"
"Oh," Miroku shrugged nonchalantly, adopting a careless tone, "it's just something I saw over there." He waved towards the pole where the strong man's buddies were now trying their luck. "Thought you'd like it."
Sango nodded, wearing a full-blown smile. "I do. Thank you, Miroku."
Miroku grinned despite himself and his false disinterest. His happy expression faltered when Hojo recaptured Sango's attention by waving the food they had bought in front of her face.
"You said you've never had funnel cake, so you have to try it."
Sango eyed the fried pastry and passed the giant stuffed Kirara back to Miroku. "Please hold this for me for a minute, Miroku."
Hojo watched her face intently as she tested the funnel cake.
Sango made a pleased noise in the back of her throat. "This is good!"
Miroku winced, having flashbacks to the previous day's feeding session at the food court. If Hojo even thought about hand-feeding Sango, he swore he would deck him. Hojo, however, gave the jealous monk no reason to attack. He even went so far as to offer him some of the pastry. Miroku waved it off, scowling. This guy was unbelievable, too friendly for his own good and too naive to realize that he was stealing Sango away from him.
Miroku was thinking about broaching the subject of the Ferris wheel again in an attempt to peel Sango away from Hojo when they turned into a new aisle. Sango's gaze fell on the carousel, and Miroku never had a chance to ask.
"Let's go on that!" the demon huntress exclaimed, picking up her pace. Hojo kept step with her, but Miroku dropped back, slowing down.
Noticing his absence, Sango hesitated, half-turning to look back at him. "Miroku? You coming?"
Miroku shook his head. "No. I'm going to go find Souta. It's getting late, and the boy needs to sleep sometime."
"Oh, right then." Sango rotated back to Hojo. "I guess this is good night, Hojo-kun."
Hojo opened his mouth to reply, but Miroku interrupted, "No, Sango. You can stay. I've just been a damper here tonight anyway. I suppose I'm not really in the mood for a festival," he spoke as he walked away. "Have fun," he tossed over his shoulder, ignoring the bitter taste the words left on his tongue.
It was amazing how such a promising night could be dashed to pieces so horribly and swiftly, made all the more horrible by the aggressor's complete obliviousness to his own destructive powers.