Author's Note: I thought it'd be interesting to take a more in depth,
personal, and unique look at Sango and Miroku. Except this story is going
to be in modern times- due to my lack in knowledge on the Inu Yasha world
and time period, traditions, etc. For the most part, this story will be
told in first person- and be focused more on Sango's thinking than actual
happenings and fantastic and climatic events. I don't expect many reviews
for this. Or any at all. It's definitely different. And not quite a
story.. more of a journal entry kind of thing- which is an odd perspective
for a fanfic writer to take.
Mine, is a story I'm reluctant to tell. For it's a story that is not quite finished yet. One always is just a bit afraid to tell a story that may potentially have no ending, or perhaps even worse- a desolate one. Sango Tajiya. High school sophomore, (about to be junior with the passing of this summer.) 15 years of age (with a late birthday- they suck. But hey look at it this way, when all my friends are really old at let's say the age of ..... 50? I'll still be a respectfully middle-aged woman at 49.) Black hair, brown eyes- your typical Japanese girl living in America. I play a little volleyball, run a little track, sing a bit, have those essential few friends that everyone needs and get pretty good grades. But I wouldn't presume to describe myself- meaning my personality, for personalities are one of those things not quite tangible in words, but more of a liquid sparkle that floats about people, originating from the depths of our toes. My attempt at being poetic- not exactly linguistically beautiful, but it will suffice. What else does an audience of so few ears (2) need to know? Oh yes.. his name is Miroku. Miroku Houshi. 2 months older than me.
It was perhaps 6 years ago when he first arrived at my church. (This part of the story is very short due to the soul fact that my memory is terrible.) 4rth grade, back when things were cute and less complicated- I'm sure most people remember the "good old days." I go to a Japanese church. JB- Japanese Baptist. Miroku and his family. His father and mother, I don't remember seeing. In any case, I've never talked to them, don't know there names, and therefore they do not matter so much. Not yet at least. (That statement is supposed to hint at the prospect of our marriage. Houshi-sama and I. But that is jumping ahead of myself. Way ahead- keeping in mind that I am only 15.
Where was I? Oh yes you must forgive me- I do have tendencies to go off into tangents, whether it be in a story, in a conversation, in a debate, in thinking, or in life altogether. When he first came, I thought he was adorable. He had a "Mickey Mouse Smile" is how I believe I described him. At all those 4rth grade sleepovers, where we had those adorable exchanges about who we liked- I always mentioned him and his "Mickey Mouse Smile."
He was quite shy, but then again so was I. (I still am, but he has outgrown his shyness.) And due to this shyness I'm afraid, I never did talk very much to him. Of course there was the occasional acknowledgement of acquaintance- the ever so boring "Hi. Bye." But for the most part, I just watched him- from afar. I remember being ever so excited to go to Sunday School because he would always arrive early. And as my class watched Veggie Tales, or Adventures in the Bible, I would watch him. The ever so adorable Houshi-sama.
However, as we all know, children are fickle, and slowly Houshi-sama became boring to me. Boring as a frog on a log to a girl who couldn't care less about frogs but instead liked dogs much better. And my fancies moved on to more attractive and exciting guys. Miroku was never very attractive. Sure, wasn't, and is not ugly- but he wasn't drop dead gorgeous like some other guys either- Inu Yasha for one. And he wasn't as flirtatious back then either. Miroku I mean- who is flirtatious as anything now. Yes, 6 years ago in 4rth grade was when I first met Miroku Houshi, back when things were sweet and guys weren't as in touch with their hormones- for they certainly are now.
To skip ahead a few years. Seventh grade, my interest in Miroku was still not rekindled but the green fire of jealousy certainly was. You know of that terrible terrible thing called AIM (AOL Instant Messenger)? That's how Miroku and I got a bit closer.
So I'm sitting at my computer, doing my homework like the good little girl I was- signed onto AIM and suddenly:
I Hate Life: I hate life. Corality: huh? dis is Miroku rai? I Hate Life: yea... Corality: r u ok? y do u hate life? I Hate Life: do u believe in true love? Corality: iono.. it's not like i've been in love before Corality: have u? I Hate Life: yes. i hate it. I Hate Life: I hate life. Corality: yes, i believe u've mentioned that- so who's the lucky girl huh? I Hate Life: Koharu. And she hates me. she dun even know I exist. cuz im a loser. i have no life. and i hate it.
And that's when our online relationship began. Of course- one must excuse our horrible "internet lingo". It was oh-so-very-cool back then, and I suppose still is, to talk all ghetto-ish like and skew spelling, and basically massacre the already confusing English language. And that is also when the aforementioned green monster of jealousy- or fire as I referred to it, was started. Brief description of Koharu- keeping in mind that I still don't like her:
Koharu Hyami- one year older than both Miroku and I. She's gorgeous. Thin, petite, neat, athletic, graceful, smart, attractive, nice, good cook. But she's also COMPLETELY FAKE. And ever so wrapped up in the world of guys. Of course she's had a tough past. She was an unwanted child, and her parents (divorced and still don't want her) are ever so strict. So I suppose I can't blame her. But whenever I talked to her, talk to her still- it feels as though she's trying to hide from the world, (granted that if I were in her position I would try to as well,) but doing so behind her looks. She acts oh so very sweet, like nothing's wrong, and that's she's a wonderful caring patient kind person. She always tells people what they should and shouldn't be doing, but she herself goes against it all. She's fake, she's a hypocrite and I DON'T LIKE HER. But I suppose to berate her, after her awful past would be cruel and insensitive of me- wouldn't it? So I'll just leave my dislike for her at the fact that Miroku was once in love with her and may still very well be. And to tell you the truth- Koharu is a sweet girl, but being the terrible person that I am- I can't like her because of this green glob of jealousy inside of me.
And so every night following that one, Miroku would lament to me about Koharu. And I- no longer having any romantic interest in him, was there, and listened, and cared. I like to think that it was pep talks and encouraging notes that pulled Miroku out of his silly depression. Which if you ask me- any depression over any person of the opposite sex (unless it's true love) is silly and pointless and I hate it when it happens to me. To speak honestly however, Miroku truly thought that he was in love with Koharu and was in a sorry state because of it. And on top of that- he was suicidal for a while, though not because of Koharu. To this day I still don't know what because. 4 suicide attempts, one of which he cut a whole in his right palm the size of a quarter. He later described it to me in detail.
Death was calling to me. It was. People say that in stories, or when they narrate during depressing movies to add dramatic effect. But Sango, it was calling me. I could just hear it, and it frightened me. But Sango, it was so soothing- the voice of death. And I thought to myself, what would be a cool way to die? Overdose? Drowning? Suffocation? (I pondered that one for a while, wondering what it would be like to stick a plastic bag over my head and seal all the air holes and just watch everything blur into darkness. But I decided that would be a bit disgusting for my mother to find me blue with lifelessness inside of a Safeway bag.) So I settled for the classic. Slitting of the wrist. Except somehow, I changed my mind at the last moment and settled for digging a bloody hole into my palm. Steak knives are too dull. Not enough point. I jammed it into my palm, right in between the bones. Through the flesh, cartilage and nerves. I was laughing as I sawed my way around- creating the hole you affectionately now call Kazaana. And I let the flesh fall into the toilet. Followed by blood after more blood. Then I flushed and watched the blood and flesh swirl around in a sea of torrential red. That's when it started to hurt. Hurt like hell- it's so weird. It's like I came back into my body, and before I was simply watching a movie and cheering the hero on because he reminded me of me. It hurt so badly. I looked down at the pink bathroom carpet through my palm. Through what used to be flesh and cried.
And the rest was history. Miroku was rushed to the hospital when his grandfather found him huddled in a little corner behind the shower curtain, with a hand towel shoved through his palm in an attempt to stop the bleeding. The doctors stitched his palm up but because his flesh was flushed forever more into the Chesapeake Bay, the hole remains to this day. But on a brighter note (for him at least), Houshi-sama is allowed to wear these stylish gloves to cover up the hole, and all the girls go crazy for it. All of them- it's disgusting.
Perhaps I haven't mentioned how much of a flirtatious pervert Houshi is now. Well he's a big one I tell you. Flirting with all the girls, telling them how beautiful they are, asking them to "bear his kids", telling everything feminine that they're wonderful nice, and that he likes them very much indeed. And to top it off, the girls love him. Throngs of girls follow the boy. And who wouldn't. Thin, in shape, sweet, smart, funny, creative, more attractive than he was in 4rth grade, great at volleyball, track star, song writer, poet, sensitive, plays bass and drums, and smells good. (But remember, many of these things are only when he wants to be qualities.) And I'm one of those girls, no matter how hard I try to resent it. No matter how hard I try not to be one of them.
But I should tell you how he got to be like this. And sadly to say, it wasn't I that made him this way. Flirtatious and perverted jerk that he is, he wasn't always like that- back in 4rth and 7th and all the years in between. No, something big happened to him, in his mind, that caused him to change. And I'm sad that I did not have that sort of affect on Houshi- sama, sad that I had no such lasting affect on Miroku at all.
Koharu and Miroku began to date. I suppose that after Miroku outgrew his gangly awkward years, she began to notice his potential, and complete sweetness. Being because the both attended the same youth group- mine, this was greatly frowned upon. Usually churches discourage young people from dating due to both physical and emotional complications. And seeing from experience, they're right. So it was more of a secret kind of dating. Holding hands, late night phone calls, whispering sweet little nothings into each others' ears. And it was also around that time that Miroku stopped talking to me again. Girlfriends and boyfriends are a lot of work don't you know? And then they broke up- shortly after that. Koharu met someone else. Someone older than her (Miroku was younger don't you know) and left Miroku. I don't know the details, because all I know is from the grapevine, not from the real people who actually know what happened. Perhaps- one day, when I truly understand what happened, I'll tell you about it. You being the reader of my thoughts and the listener to my story. And I might dramatically add that it has no ending. No real one at least.
And Miroku and I had stopped talking- so I wasn't there for him. I don't think I ever really was. I was just a selfish little middle school girl. (The entire above paragraph happened in 7th grade.) It adds to my shame, but also my honesty when I tell you that while Miroku was in his depression and suicidal stage, I didn't just listen and encourage him. I laughed too. And that was due to jealously as well. I introduced him to one of my friends. Houshi-sama was a boy back then too, and told me that she was hot. And at one point they talked a lot, on the phone, on the internet, in person. I'm not quite sure of the chronological order anymore, but it was while he was suicidal and before he was in love with Koharu. He was "in love" with my friend. Kagome.
She is hot. She's cute, happy, bouncy and everything that a guy could like. And He told me that he loved her. I told her that he loved her. And she told me that she was scared and now hated him. So I told him that she hated him, and that she was scared of him, and together, Kagome and I were mean to Houshi-sama. Me out of jealously and her out of fright of love. Kagome's changed though. Perhaps I'll talk about that later. She and I used to be the best of friends. Jokes, secret talks, galore. But now she's got a popular basketball star boyfriend and has lost her virginity as well as her sweet innocence.
And every single time that I look back, I wonder, why was I so mean to Miroku? When he needed me, I laughed at him and was mean to him, and I betrayed his trust. I don't remember why, or how, or when. I just know that I did, and that things changed. Following his breakup with Koharu, he turned big pervert, and we stopped talking. It was back to the "Hi. Bye." acquaintanceship that we were so good at. Until a few months ago.
Mine, is a story I'm reluctant to tell. For it's a story that is not quite finished yet. One always is just a bit afraid to tell a story that may potentially have no ending, or perhaps even worse- a desolate one. Sango Tajiya. High school sophomore, (about to be junior with the passing of this summer.) 15 years of age (with a late birthday- they suck. But hey look at it this way, when all my friends are really old at let's say the age of ..... 50? I'll still be a respectfully middle-aged woman at 49.) Black hair, brown eyes- your typical Japanese girl living in America. I play a little volleyball, run a little track, sing a bit, have those essential few friends that everyone needs and get pretty good grades. But I wouldn't presume to describe myself- meaning my personality, for personalities are one of those things not quite tangible in words, but more of a liquid sparkle that floats about people, originating from the depths of our toes. My attempt at being poetic- not exactly linguistically beautiful, but it will suffice. What else does an audience of so few ears (2) need to know? Oh yes.. his name is Miroku. Miroku Houshi. 2 months older than me.
It was perhaps 6 years ago when he first arrived at my church. (This part of the story is very short due to the soul fact that my memory is terrible.) 4rth grade, back when things were cute and less complicated- I'm sure most people remember the "good old days." I go to a Japanese church. JB- Japanese Baptist. Miroku and his family. His father and mother, I don't remember seeing. In any case, I've never talked to them, don't know there names, and therefore they do not matter so much. Not yet at least. (That statement is supposed to hint at the prospect of our marriage. Houshi-sama and I. But that is jumping ahead of myself. Way ahead- keeping in mind that I am only 15.
Where was I? Oh yes you must forgive me- I do have tendencies to go off into tangents, whether it be in a story, in a conversation, in a debate, in thinking, or in life altogether. When he first came, I thought he was adorable. He had a "Mickey Mouse Smile" is how I believe I described him. At all those 4rth grade sleepovers, where we had those adorable exchanges about who we liked- I always mentioned him and his "Mickey Mouse Smile."
He was quite shy, but then again so was I. (I still am, but he has outgrown his shyness.) And due to this shyness I'm afraid, I never did talk very much to him. Of course there was the occasional acknowledgement of acquaintance- the ever so boring "Hi. Bye." But for the most part, I just watched him- from afar. I remember being ever so excited to go to Sunday School because he would always arrive early. And as my class watched Veggie Tales, or Adventures in the Bible, I would watch him. The ever so adorable Houshi-sama.
However, as we all know, children are fickle, and slowly Houshi-sama became boring to me. Boring as a frog on a log to a girl who couldn't care less about frogs but instead liked dogs much better. And my fancies moved on to more attractive and exciting guys. Miroku was never very attractive. Sure, wasn't, and is not ugly- but he wasn't drop dead gorgeous like some other guys either- Inu Yasha for one. And he wasn't as flirtatious back then either. Miroku I mean- who is flirtatious as anything now. Yes, 6 years ago in 4rth grade was when I first met Miroku Houshi, back when things were sweet and guys weren't as in touch with their hormones- for they certainly are now.
To skip ahead a few years. Seventh grade, my interest in Miroku was still not rekindled but the green fire of jealousy certainly was. You know of that terrible terrible thing called AIM (AOL Instant Messenger)? That's how Miroku and I got a bit closer.
So I'm sitting at my computer, doing my homework like the good little girl I was- signed onto AIM and suddenly:
I Hate Life: I hate life. Corality: huh? dis is Miroku rai? I Hate Life: yea... Corality: r u ok? y do u hate life? I Hate Life: do u believe in true love? Corality: iono.. it's not like i've been in love before Corality: have u? I Hate Life: yes. i hate it. I Hate Life: I hate life. Corality: yes, i believe u've mentioned that- so who's the lucky girl huh? I Hate Life: Koharu. And she hates me. she dun even know I exist. cuz im a loser. i have no life. and i hate it.
And that's when our online relationship began. Of course- one must excuse our horrible "internet lingo". It was oh-so-very-cool back then, and I suppose still is, to talk all ghetto-ish like and skew spelling, and basically massacre the already confusing English language. And that is also when the aforementioned green monster of jealousy- or fire as I referred to it, was started. Brief description of Koharu- keeping in mind that I still don't like her:
Koharu Hyami- one year older than both Miroku and I. She's gorgeous. Thin, petite, neat, athletic, graceful, smart, attractive, nice, good cook. But she's also COMPLETELY FAKE. And ever so wrapped up in the world of guys. Of course she's had a tough past. She was an unwanted child, and her parents (divorced and still don't want her) are ever so strict. So I suppose I can't blame her. But whenever I talked to her, talk to her still- it feels as though she's trying to hide from the world, (granted that if I were in her position I would try to as well,) but doing so behind her looks. She acts oh so very sweet, like nothing's wrong, and that's she's a wonderful caring patient kind person. She always tells people what they should and shouldn't be doing, but she herself goes against it all. She's fake, she's a hypocrite and I DON'T LIKE HER. But I suppose to berate her, after her awful past would be cruel and insensitive of me- wouldn't it? So I'll just leave my dislike for her at the fact that Miroku was once in love with her and may still very well be. And to tell you the truth- Koharu is a sweet girl, but being the terrible person that I am- I can't like her because of this green glob of jealousy inside of me.
And so every night following that one, Miroku would lament to me about Koharu. And I- no longer having any romantic interest in him, was there, and listened, and cared. I like to think that it was pep talks and encouraging notes that pulled Miroku out of his silly depression. Which if you ask me- any depression over any person of the opposite sex (unless it's true love) is silly and pointless and I hate it when it happens to me. To speak honestly however, Miroku truly thought that he was in love with Koharu and was in a sorry state because of it. And on top of that- he was suicidal for a while, though not because of Koharu. To this day I still don't know what because. 4 suicide attempts, one of which he cut a whole in his right palm the size of a quarter. He later described it to me in detail.
Death was calling to me. It was. People say that in stories, or when they narrate during depressing movies to add dramatic effect. But Sango, it was calling me. I could just hear it, and it frightened me. But Sango, it was so soothing- the voice of death. And I thought to myself, what would be a cool way to die? Overdose? Drowning? Suffocation? (I pondered that one for a while, wondering what it would be like to stick a plastic bag over my head and seal all the air holes and just watch everything blur into darkness. But I decided that would be a bit disgusting for my mother to find me blue with lifelessness inside of a Safeway bag.) So I settled for the classic. Slitting of the wrist. Except somehow, I changed my mind at the last moment and settled for digging a bloody hole into my palm. Steak knives are too dull. Not enough point. I jammed it into my palm, right in between the bones. Through the flesh, cartilage and nerves. I was laughing as I sawed my way around- creating the hole you affectionately now call Kazaana. And I let the flesh fall into the toilet. Followed by blood after more blood. Then I flushed and watched the blood and flesh swirl around in a sea of torrential red. That's when it started to hurt. Hurt like hell- it's so weird. It's like I came back into my body, and before I was simply watching a movie and cheering the hero on because he reminded me of me. It hurt so badly. I looked down at the pink bathroom carpet through my palm. Through what used to be flesh and cried.
And the rest was history. Miroku was rushed to the hospital when his grandfather found him huddled in a little corner behind the shower curtain, with a hand towel shoved through his palm in an attempt to stop the bleeding. The doctors stitched his palm up but because his flesh was flushed forever more into the Chesapeake Bay, the hole remains to this day. But on a brighter note (for him at least), Houshi-sama is allowed to wear these stylish gloves to cover up the hole, and all the girls go crazy for it. All of them- it's disgusting.
Perhaps I haven't mentioned how much of a flirtatious pervert Houshi is now. Well he's a big one I tell you. Flirting with all the girls, telling them how beautiful they are, asking them to "bear his kids", telling everything feminine that they're wonderful nice, and that he likes them very much indeed. And to top it off, the girls love him. Throngs of girls follow the boy. And who wouldn't. Thin, in shape, sweet, smart, funny, creative, more attractive than he was in 4rth grade, great at volleyball, track star, song writer, poet, sensitive, plays bass and drums, and smells good. (But remember, many of these things are only when he wants to be qualities.) And I'm one of those girls, no matter how hard I try to resent it. No matter how hard I try not to be one of them.
But I should tell you how he got to be like this. And sadly to say, it wasn't I that made him this way. Flirtatious and perverted jerk that he is, he wasn't always like that- back in 4rth and 7th and all the years in between. No, something big happened to him, in his mind, that caused him to change. And I'm sad that I did not have that sort of affect on Houshi- sama, sad that I had no such lasting affect on Miroku at all.
Koharu and Miroku began to date. I suppose that after Miroku outgrew his gangly awkward years, she began to notice his potential, and complete sweetness. Being because the both attended the same youth group- mine, this was greatly frowned upon. Usually churches discourage young people from dating due to both physical and emotional complications. And seeing from experience, they're right. So it was more of a secret kind of dating. Holding hands, late night phone calls, whispering sweet little nothings into each others' ears. And it was also around that time that Miroku stopped talking to me again. Girlfriends and boyfriends are a lot of work don't you know? And then they broke up- shortly after that. Koharu met someone else. Someone older than her (Miroku was younger don't you know) and left Miroku. I don't know the details, because all I know is from the grapevine, not from the real people who actually know what happened. Perhaps- one day, when I truly understand what happened, I'll tell you about it. You being the reader of my thoughts and the listener to my story. And I might dramatically add that it has no ending. No real one at least.
And Miroku and I had stopped talking- so I wasn't there for him. I don't think I ever really was. I was just a selfish little middle school girl. (The entire above paragraph happened in 7th grade.) It adds to my shame, but also my honesty when I tell you that while Miroku was in his depression and suicidal stage, I didn't just listen and encourage him. I laughed too. And that was due to jealously as well. I introduced him to one of my friends. Houshi-sama was a boy back then too, and told me that she was hot. And at one point they talked a lot, on the phone, on the internet, in person. I'm not quite sure of the chronological order anymore, but it was while he was suicidal and before he was in love with Koharu. He was "in love" with my friend. Kagome.
She is hot. She's cute, happy, bouncy and everything that a guy could like. And He told me that he loved her. I told her that he loved her. And she told me that she was scared and now hated him. So I told him that she hated him, and that she was scared of him, and together, Kagome and I were mean to Houshi-sama. Me out of jealously and her out of fright of love. Kagome's changed though. Perhaps I'll talk about that later. She and I used to be the best of friends. Jokes, secret talks, galore. But now she's got a popular basketball star boyfriend and has lost her virginity as well as her sweet innocence.
And every single time that I look back, I wonder, why was I so mean to Miroku? When he needed me, I laughed at him and was mean to him, and I betrayed his trust. I don't remember why, or how, or when. I just know that I did, and that things changed. Following his breakup with Koharu, he turned big pervert, and we stopped talking. It was back to the "Hi. Bye." acquaintanceship that we were so good at. Until a few months ago.