This is just an idea that came to me all of a sudden one morning before school. I don't think I've seen a story like this one before…similar, yes, about the same thing, no.
Disclaimer~ I no own nothing. I'm living on like ::counts:: 73 cents and some rubber bands.
My eyes widen suddenly as I feel it. The familiar feeling is back. I shoot to my feet even as I clutch my right hand tightly. The others are staring at me in worry and surprise.
"Houshi-sama?" Sango's worried face peers at me from the other side of the fire. I refuse to look at her, at any of them. Inuyasha stares at me silently, while Kagome asks what's wrong. I do not answer and instead lurch off into the forest. I spare them a backwards glance and see the hanyou nod grimly and turn to talk to the girls. I guess he remembers then.
I stop my frantic half walk, half lurch and lean against a tree. I still grip my right hand and mentally groan. Has it really been a year? A year. I had known this day would come, and yet, now that I wasn't alone anymore, it had not seemed nearly so long. I try to go through the meditative exercises I had long ago perfected. However, this year, it seems that meditation will not take away the pain.
And then it begins.
The pain shoots up from the center of my palm, spreading towards my fingers and arms. There's a pricking sensation, as though someone is pinching me with red-hot knives. I feel the skin break. That is where the pain gets to me and my legs collapse, right arm on right leg, left hand still holding my other, as though the pressure will ease the pain. Sometimes I long to take off my glove and witness, just once, the Kazaana growing. And then I think of my father and become so afraid.
"Father! Why's do I need to wear a glove? And what about the prayer beads—Mother, why are you crying?"
The pain grows more and more intense. The skin is literally being pulled from my skin, or at least I presume so. I have to go by feeling alone, and that is how it feels. I hear a bone crack and I grow pale and close my eyes, as though I can block out the sensations with that simple gesture. I wish I could, but you can't block out your skin and hearing from closing your eyes.
"Mother? Why's Father gone so long? Don't he love us? Why's he leaving so often?"
I squeeze my eyes tightly, and am surprised to find silent tears below them. Mother was never quiet…
"Mother, why are you laughing so hard?"
"Father, if Mother keeps yelling like that, will she make us deafen?"
"Mother, why do you cry so hard? Your eyes get so red…"
Mother had only cried silently once, on her deathbed.
My hand is getting tingly as blood is sucked into the black hole. I don't even try to move it, except to lean it down. I don't know why I bother. It wouldn't help, as the blood would still be sucked in. Reflex, I guess.
"Miroku! Don't look! Don't look at me!"
"Father! Watch out for the youkai!"
"Don't look, Miroku! Don't look!"
"What…what is that wind?"
More tears leak out as the Kazaana rips away flesh, muscles, blood, and whatever else is in a hand. I just want the pain to go away. I groan and choke back phlegm as I see a trickle of blood leak out of the glove.
"Miroku, promise me…promise me you'll continue the quest if I can't kill Naraku."
"Father?"
"Promise me…promise me you will."
"Father…I promise. I will defeat Naraku should you not be able to."
"FATHER!"
"Miroku! Come back! Mushin! Go after him!"
"And you?"
"Forget me! Go after my son! Please, he can't see this!"
"FATHER!"
The pain was numbing now. It was fading away as the Kazaana finished up growing. I let my left hand go limp and waited for the feeling to return to both limbs.
"Mother? You aren't crying like you usually do."
"And how do I usually cry?"
"With feeling. With spirit and heart."
"Miroku…my spirit is all but broken…"
"Mother?"
"Miroku…I love you…but I fade away even now…I'm sorry."
"MOTHER!"
I stand up and wipe the blood from the glove, dunking it over and over into a little puddle. Then I dry my hands and eyes and finally stand up. I hate this day, this day when the Kazaana grows. I hate the pain, I hate the ideas, I hate loneliness. But most off all, I hate the memories that come with it.
I make my way back to the camp. I was only slightly surprised to find that they were all still up waiting for me. I simply nod at them. Inuyasha studies me intently. Despite his faults and rashness, he is very perceptive about some things. Thankfully, he says nothing. Shippo simply walks over to me and leans against my lap. I guess he smells the blood, or maybe the tears. Why ever he did it, it offers me some comfort and I smile reassuringly my friends. Kagome simply peers at me but she knows not to push it and gives me a smile that—even for me—is hard to read. She and Inuyasha settle down to sleep, she in her sleeping bag and he above her in a tree. Shippo has dozed off against me and I settle down, careful not to wake him.
I look at the last member of our strange assemblage and notice that she is giving me a hard to read look. She notices me looking at her and blushes, looking away and settling for sleep.
I always wonder why never asked her my famous question, but I guess it's because I simply will not put my dear Sango through what my mother was put through. Why it matters, I do not have a chance to ponder, for the pain has finally gotten to me and sleep overtakes me.
"Mother? Am I special? Is that what the glove means? And why isn't Father here today? Mother, why are you crying again?"
So what do you think? This is my first time writing a Miroku POV, so please tell me if it sucks or not!
The idea for it came from the first time Miroku, Kagome, and Inuyasha all talked. Miroku said something like "Every year it grows larger until it will consume me" or something like that.
If anyone has a better title, I'm open to suggestions!