A/N: Happy (brief) update time! Huzzah! Y'know, judging by the reviews,
nobody reads this story . . . ^_^;; Warning, whatever loyal readers may
exist out there: I am at the risk of becoming a discouraged writer.
"Demon's Body"
Miroku looked back at Kazuma, who had stopped in his tracks. "Something awry?" he asked quietly, giving him the usual calm smile.
" . . . The sun," Kazuma said after a long moment, pointing towards the pink-streaked horizon. "When it comes up, I'll be back to normal. It's not too late for you to go back, you know."
"I told you, I already know that you are a hanyou," Miroku told him with a sigh. Kazuma had been trying to convince him to go back to the palace all night, but he'd be damned if he gave up now.
"I am not as . . . tolerable in my real body," Kazuma muttered, looking away. "Humans find me very unattractive."
"So what?" Miroku retorted, turning back to the road. "I didn't ask you to do this because I wanted to lay you. I needed someone powerful, and you were the strongest person at hand."
"I know," the half-breed said hoarsely. "I exist solely to fight. Father himself told me that."
Miroku huffed. "You talk too much," he admonished, wagging a finger at Kazuma. "Just because I'm a pretty girl, you tell me things that I can use to break you."
"Y-you're just a human," he muttered. "Youkai aren't attracted to humans."
"That's a lie," Miroku replied airily. "People like you would not exist if humans were physically repulsive to youkai." Kazuma didn't have anything to say to that. He just pulled his yukata tighter around himself and looked down at his bare feet.
"It's starting," he whispered finally.
Miroku half-turned and regarded Kazuma curiously as the boy's fingers and toes lengthened into gnarled talons wicked enough to put even the nastiest pureblooded youkai to shame. "Oh my, oh my," he said in slight surprise, and Kazuma looked up at him guiltily, revealing in the early light that his eyes truly were silver.
The boy's ears widened into large, rounded triangles pressed against the sides of his head and placed where a normal human's would be, and his hair suddenly went from snarled but glossy black to dulled, natty charcoal. However, Miroku's eyes stayed mostly on the scary gut-ripping claws.
"You aren't that frightening," he observed prematurely.
Kazuma's skin turned dark gray and all the fat in his body vanished like so much smoke, leaving a gaunt, bug-eyed skeleton with leathery skin yanked tight against its razor-sharp bones standing where there had previously been a relatively handsome "human" boy.
Miroku just gaped at him. "Oh dear," he squeaked finally, feeling about ready to faint.
"Sango-hime," he said hesitantly, and his voice, once sweet tenor, was gravel in the coffee grinder. Not that Miroku was overly familiar with coffee grinders . . . "Are you afraid of me now?"
"A . . . little bit," Miroku squeaked, for the first time missing the Air Rip's oddly reassuring existence in his palm.
"I'm sorry," Kazuma said quietly. "I don't like to scare people who don't deserve it."
"It's okay," Miroku told him after a brief check that indeed he was not dead from a heart attack nor had he soiled his nice new kimono. "I have seen crueler people with prettier faces."
The hanyou snorted and glared at him. "Don't sugarcoat your opinion of me. You'd never trust me if we'd met looking like this."
"It's the new moon tonight," Miroku observed idly, then glanced back to Kazuma. "You hold absolutely no physical attraction for me, Kazuma. But no man does, so that is not because of your appearance, I assure you."
"Oh? And what happens when you are married?" Kazuma asked, looking mildly amused.
"Please." Miroku put on his usual offended look and put a hand to his chest. "I am a hime."
* tbc . . . *
"Demon's Body"
Miroku looked back at Kazuma, who had stopped in his tracks. "Something awry?" he asked quietly, giving him the usual calm smile.
" . . . The sun," Kazuma said after a long moment, pointing towards the pink-streaked horizon. "When it comes up, I'll be back to normal. It's not too late for you to go back, you know."
"I told you, I already know that you are a hanyou," Miroku told him with a sigh. Kazuma had been trying to convince him to go back to the palace all night, but he'd be damned if he gave up now.
"I am not as . . . tolerable in my real body," Kazuma muttered, looking away. "Humans find me very unattractive."
"So what?" Miroku retorted, turning back to the road. "I didn't ask you to do this because I wanted to lay you. I needed someone powerful, and you were the strongest person at hand."
"I know," the half-breed said hoarsely. "I exist solely to fight. Father himself told me that."
Miroku huffed. "You talk too much," he admonished, wagging a finger at Kazuma. "Just because I'm a pretty girl, you tell me things that I can use to break you."
"Y-you're just a human," he muttered. "Youkai aren't attracted to humans."
"That's a lie," Miroku replied airily. "People like you would not exist if humans were physically repulsive to youkai." Kazuma didn't have anything to say to that. He just pulled his yukata tighter around himself and looked down at his bare feet.
"It's starting," he whispered finally.
Miroku half-turned and regarded Kazuma curiously as the boy's fingers and toes lengthened into gnarled talons wicked enough to put even the nastiest pureblooded youkai to shame. "Oh my, oh my," he said in slight surprise, and Kazuma looked up at him guiltily, revealing in the early light that his eyes truly were silver.
The boy's ears widened into large, rounded triangles pressed against the sides of his head and placed where a normal human's would be, and his hair suddenly went from snarled but glossy black to dulled, natty charcoal. However, Miroku's eyes stayed mostly on the scary gut-ripping claws.
"You aren't that frightening," he observed prematurely.
Kazuma's skin turned dark gray and all the fat in his body vanished like so much smoke, leaving a gaunt, bug-eyed skeleton with leathery skin yanked tight against its razor-sharp bones standing where there had previously been a relatively handsome "human" boy.
Miroku just gaped at him. "Oh dear," he squeaked finally, feeling about ready to faint.
"Sango-hime," he said hesitantly, and his voice, once sweet tenor, was gravel in the coffee grinder. Not that Miroku was overly familiar with coffee grinders . . . "Are you afraid of me now?"
"A . . . little bit," Miroku squeaked, for the first time missing the Air Rip's oddly reassuring existence in his palm.
"I'm sorry," Kazuma said quietly. "I don't like to scare people who don't deserve it."
"It's okay," Miroku told him after a brief check that indeed he was not dead from a heart attack nor had he soiled his nice new kimono. "I have seen crueler people with prettier faces."
The hanyou snorted and glared at him. "Don't sugarcoat your opinion of me. You'd never trust me if we'd met looking like this."
"It's the new moon tonight," Miroku observed idly, then glanced back to Kazuma. "You hold absolutely no physical attraction for me, Kazuma. But no man does, so that is not because of your appearance, I assure you."
"Oh? And what happens when you are married?" Kazuma asked, looking mildly amused.
"Please." Miroku put on his usual offended look and put a hand to his chest. "I am a hime."
* tbc . . . *