Water Spirit: Hellllllllllo!!!!!!! How are all of you this fine evening? Sick? That's too bad. Happy? That's great. Anything else? Hmm… I feel the pain. Well, here's the "sequel" to "…And Butterfly Kisses at Night…" *frowns* For a time I had a different user name, but some jerk-off made some snide comment about it, which I shoved down his/her/its throat. But I went back to Water Spirit in the end…
Eclipse Hunter: Uh-huh. Get to the point, freak.
Water Spirit: *whacks Eclipse Hunter* Ahem. Yes. Instead of making this flow with Butterfly Kisses, it stands alone. Hehheh…. I have evil plans for this. Read and review, onegai! Oh, on a side note, I suggest reading this story while listening to Alone or Open Up Your Mind from Gensomaden Saiyuki or Kakinaide from Sol Bianca. All three are very pretty… They're what gave me inspiration on this.
Disclaimer: Don't own Miroku. Don't own Sango. Don't own the over-used plot. Don't own the words. Don't own Crash and Burn. Own the general idea. ….Why are you still here? Read! Read!
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Crash and Burn
I am alone… Alone with that thing that calls itself a man… Miroku… If that's even a human name… Heh. I wish he'd go away. I wish we hadn't gotten lost. I didn't mean to do anything to get us in such a predicament. I didn't mean to do anything at all. How did this happen? What did I do, exactly? I can't remember… Am I dreaming? Why does he have that look on his face… Like he actually cares… Like he wants to hold me… Like he wants to kiss me… Like he… like he… like he…loves…me…
Sango woke with before the dawn, earlier than the earliest birds. She pulled on the parts of her clothing that she had taken off when she had gone to bed, and crept, silently as a demon stalking prey, out of the protective ward and camp, not really glancing at anything around her. She did glance over her shoulder, briefly, to make sure that Miroku hadn't woken up and then she took off at a run up the path that had seemed so lonely the previous night.
Now, as Sango ran along the dirt trail, she noticed it truly wasn't so bare. A flower or two appeared along the edge of the path, hundreds of bushes were there, and an occasional rabbit or fox or squirrel appeared, looking to see if the way was clear, then they would spot her and duck back into the cover of shrubbery. Trees loomed, tall and protective with branches arching over the ground to guard it like a mother's arms wrapped around and guarded a child, all around her. The faint moonlight broke through the leaves and boughs in small pockets, streaming to the ground. Bits of dust could be seen in the light, but those bits looked almost like sylphs or faeries.
Abruptly, the forest began to thin out, and then it stopped altogether, and the only thing left of it was its grasses crawling meagerly up the stone that had appeared beneath Sango's feet. She walked forward, moving to the edge of the rock cliff, and she sat down on its edge. She closed her eyes as the birds began to sing their morning chorus and a smile crept its way across her face. A bit of warmth touched her cheek; like a lover's caress the warmth slid down her neck, over her breasts, her stomach, her legs, and down to her toes. Sango opened her eyes and stared at the sunrise.
Like a perfectly planned symphony, the sun began to light the sky. The violins stuck the first chord. The streaked clouds lit on fire with pink light. The violas, cellos, and basses added to the violins subtly, then. Bits of orange and red wrapped and twined with the pink, layering, doubling the color. A roll from the drums and the strings began to rise in a crescendo. The trumpets joined them, a sweet, bright, and low harmony backed by alto saxophones and bass clarinets. The curve of the sun appeared over the land and the colors in the sky grew sharp, almost painful to look at.
A piccolo began to play a simple melody, joined a moment later by more piccolos and flutes, and they were backed by clarinets. Yellow light reached up into the sky, pulling at the other resplendent colors. Castanets rang through the theater at that moment and the woodwinds flurried in a spiral downward into nothingness. Drawn in by the sun, the pinks and oranges and reds began to fade into the normal light of normal day. The trumpets and other brass instruments made a soft call and were replied to by the violins. A flock of birds made their way across the sun, low as it was in the sky, and called out to each other. The brass instruments died away, leaving only the strings to turns about themselves, rising higher and higher. Slowly climbing into the heavens, bringing light to all, the sun was; it climbed ever higher, nothing hindering its travel. Further up the instruments went, the basses dying first, then the cellos, then the violas, until only the violins we left, and then they, too, reached the limit of their voices and died. The sun shown brightly, calling to all.
Sango smiled childishly at the rising sun, and then stood. She turned and began to move back through the forest, heedless of the watching eyes of the animals. Ahead, the clearing came slowly into her view, the ward to render it invisible gone. Miroku had all ready made a breakfast, which smelled suspiciously like the beans they had been eating for the past three days, and he had all ready started to devour it.
She came up slowly, noting how he glanced up warily. They both seemed to be much more wary than when they first got separated from the others, but, yet, there was a look to Miroku that never faded. A look of hopefulness that Sango couldn't help but admire in the deepest part of her soul. She sat down across from him and he handed her a plate of beans.
"Where were you?" he asked her.
"I didn't think you noticed," she replied.
"Well, I did," Miroku snapped in reply. "Where were you?"
"Going wherever I wanted," Sango snarled back at him. "Why should you care anyway, you perverted monk? All you care about is getting a woman! You're only worried about me because I'm the only woman who hangs around you besides Kagome, and we both know that Inu Yasha has claimed her! Why don't you go and try to get someone else pregnant, you lecher! I hate you, kisama, and I never want you to worry about me again! What I do is my own business and none of yours! I wish that stupid hole in your hand would just swallow you up!" She finished screaming, and then bit her lip in shame. She had gone too far this time. She was usually in more control of herself. And the look on his face… The look on his face tore her in two.
Miroku sat alone on the edge of the cliff at the edge of the forest, forcing his stomach to stay in its rightful place. It wasn't that he was sick--no, he was sick. But not physically. He was sick in his heart. In his soul. In his mind. Everything that was him, short of his physical form, was sick. The hand with the wind tunnel in it rested on his heart. "Kokoro," he murmured. [1]
He felt tears prickling at his eyes, a strange painful feeling, and he tried to do his best to hold them back, but failed horribly. Everything was so wrong, he though to himself as he sat, staring at the blue sky. He watched as an eagle flew by, and almost found it within himself to chuckle. How ironic was it that a bird which meant good luck or good fortune would cross his path at this moment. He bent his head so that he would not have to gaze upon the bird which was contradicting everything that his mind was telling him.
As he turned away from the bird, his thoughts wandered back to the very thing he was trying to forget at that moment.
Why should you care anyway, you perverted monk?
"Why shouldn't I, Sango… Why shouldn't I?" he whispered.
All you care about is getting a woman! You're only worried about me because I'm the only woman who hangs around you besides Kagome, and we both know that Inu Yasha has claimed her!
"No, no! That's not true! That's not true at all! I'd be worried about you even if there were thousands of women all around me!" he protested to the wind.
The wind whistled through the trees, responding in a screeching voice. Liar, liar.
Why don't you go and try to get someone else pregnant, you lecher! I hate you, kisama, and I never want you to worry about me again!
Miroku's eyes clenched shut tighter, and his hand fisted in his clothing. Kisama. she had called him kisama. Did she hate him that much? [2]
What I do is my own business and none of yours! I wish that stupid hole in your hand would just swallow you up!
His heart, not for the first time since he had gone over Sango's chastisement in his mind, was torn from his chest. It fell to the ground and maggots began to crawl over it, picking apart peace by peace. As his heart was torn by the maggots, his dead and lifeless body was thrown over the edge of a cliff, but it never hit the ground. It kept falling and falling, endlessly, drowning the air around it.
Miroku shook his head. "No," he muttered to himself. "Stop it, Miroku," he ordered. "You're acting like a child, not a full grown monk. What's wrong with you?"
Nothing, another part of him said gently. Nothing's wrong with you, it's all Sango.
"No. Sango… Sango isn't at fault. It's my fault."
Miroku raised his head and looked up at the sky, at the sun and the clouds and the birds. His eyes closed and he let the warmth of the sun fall upon his face. "Everything that's gone wrong, it's all been my fault," he said to himself. "I try to do everything right, but I do everything wrong. I don't know what to do because every time I try something, I screw it up. I… I crash into the earth and burn away into nothing. Always."
"…I crash into the earth and burn away into nothing. Always."
Sango watched Miroku from the edge of the forest, half hidden by a tree. She hadn't known he'd felt that way about himself, and she felt horrible because she was the one who had brought that grief upon him with her cruel, thoughtless words. Oh, she had meant them when she had said them, so hot with anger, but now she regretted ever even thinking such things. How could she have ever been so cruel to him? Sure, he was a pervert, but she didn't have any right to be so cold.
Wait, who was she kidding. Of course she had a right to be cold to him. All Miroku was, was a heartless prick who wanted to get a woman into his bed to bear his child.
But he has good reason, a part of her mind she didn't like too often whispered to her. Her stupid mind was telling her things it shouldn't. Again.
Oh, he may have a good reason, but that doesn't justify his feeling up every woman he meets, Sango snapped back.
No, but he doesn't feel them up all the time.
Yes, he does.
No, he doesn't.
Why was she arguing with herself?
Because she knew part of her was right and other part of her was wrong.
Well, then which part is the right part?
This one.
…Then in the end she was still right.
No, this part of her was right. The part of her that was conscious thought was the part that was wrong.
Logic, Sango told herself, would be the downfall of mankind. But, be that as it may, she was still right and the part of her mind she was arguing with was still wrong, whatever part of her it was.
Sango waited for her mind to reply, but it didn't. She felt that she had lost something, telling that part of her to fall silent. Something inside her was missing that was important, and it left an aching hole. But she had been arguing with herself! Surely that was a sign of insanity!
A sigh brought her out of her odd reverie and her eyes fell upon Miroku. He had begun to stand up and walk towards the forest. He was leaning heavily on his staff, as if the sky had fallen onto the earth and he alone was bearing its weight.
As he passed by her, Sango stepped from the shadows of the trees. She saw him start, then relax when he realized who she was. Reaching out a hesitant hand to his shoulder, she murmured, "If you need to crash and burn, then crash and burn." Her hands fell firmly onto his shoulders. "You're not alone. Just remember you are not alone, so don't you fear. I'll be there for you… no matter where you are."
His black eyes watched hers and then, slowly, his sad look was broken with a slight smile. "You don't need to try and make me feel better, Sango. I don't need cheering up."
She could see he was disturbed. He didn't know she had heard him thinking to himself.
Sango shook her head. "Miroku, you stupid monk," she told him, falling against him. "Are you going to keep trying to fly, even though your wings are broken and torn? You stupid, stupid monk. Don't keep going when you're going to fall. You're going to crash and burn eventually, so just stop now, before you do, and let me fix you."
Miroku stared down at the top of Sango's head, her black hair cascading around her shoulders. "Sango…" he breathed her name as reverently as one would say the name of a goddess. "Sango, do you know what you're offering?"
Sango smiled against Miroku's chest. "Of course I do, you stupid monk," she replied. It was strange how "stupid monk" sounded like a sweet pet name, she mused to herself as Miroku's arms closed around her.
"You know, I'm not too sure I want Inu Yasha and Kagome to find us anymore," Miroku said in a wandering tone.
Sango chuckled softly and shook her head. "Still the hopeless pervert."
"I prefer hopeless romantic," Miroku replied, raising Sango's chin gently. He lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers.
See? Sango's mind whispered. That part of her had been right after all.
Sango smiled against the kiss.
"I'm ready, now, if you are," Miroku whispered against her mouth.
"For what?" Sango murmured in reply. All thought was quickly evaporating from her mind, except for part of her chuckling and reminding her that it was right. All she wanted was for Miroku to kiss her again instead of feeling the soft tickle of his lips as he talked against hers.
"Ready to crash."
"But not to burn."
"Never to burn."
When you feel all alone
And the world has turned its back on you
Give me a moment to tame your wild wild heart
I know you feel like the walls are closing in on you
It's hard to find relief and people can be so cold.
When darkness is upon your door and you feel like you can't
take anymore
Let me be the one you call
If you jump I'll break your fall
Lift you up and fly away with you into the night
If you need to fall apart
I can mend a broken heart
If you need to crash then crash and burn
You're not alone
When you feel all alone
And a loyal friend is hard to find
You're caught in a one way street
With the monsters in your head
When hopes and dreams are far away and
You feel like you can't face the day
Let me be the one you call
If you jump I'll break your fall
Lift you up and fly away with you into the night
If you need to fall apart
I can mend a broken heart
If you need to crash then crash and burn
You're not alone
Because there has always been heartache and pain
and when it's over you'll breathe again
You'll breathe again
When you feel all alone
And the world has turned its back on you
Give me a moment please
To tame your wild wild heart
Let me be the one you call
If you jump I'll break your fall
Lift you up and fly away with you into the night
If you need to fall apart
I can mend a broken heart
If you need to crash then crash and burn
You're not alone
***
Water
Spirit: … *swoon* I love romance… Below are notes on the story. Where would a
story be without notes? Notes are great. I love notes… ^____^
Eclipse Hunter: …Water Spirit's on crack again…
Water Spirit: *glower* Shut it.
[1] The Japanese word "kokoro" has always fascinated me. Not only does it mean heart, but it can also mean soul, will, or mind depending on the context/translation. The way the word means all four things in English (that is, heart, mind, will, and soul) makes me wonder what the true distinction between them is.
Take the expression, in English, "I love [you/him/her] with all my soul." It has different variations, one of them being "I love [you/him/her] with all my heart." Such expressions diminish the barriers between the dictionary definitions of heart, mind, soul, and will making them almost the same thing.
When Miroku says "kokoro" here, he's referring to everything that's sick, that is, everything that is not physical. He's referring to his heart, mind, will, and soul, which have all been hurt. When Sango is talking to herself, what she is arguing with is all her heart, mind, soul, and will. Again, kokoro. I've got a hypothesis that, at one point or another, all four things were considered the same, thus the reason there is only one word in the Japanese language. Whew… Didja follow all of that?
[2] Kisama, in Japanese, is a very nasty way of addressing someone. It can also be translated to something like bastard in English. You could probably equate calling someone "kisama" to calling a black person a nigger. It's really rude to call someone that, and really, really disrespectful.