Note: don't worry. This scene doesn't surpass the sexual content of a PG rating...
Miroku pressed into Sadako's kiss, a sense of pleasure tingling in his lips. He was satisfying
a long wanted hunger inside of himself. The sereneness of the lady's terrace brought a warm
comforting atmosphere under the moonlight. Miroku felt as if his soul had been lifted into a higher
realm of absolute safety. The old man mush have of made a mistake. There was no way Sadako was
a demon. This feeling inside him was unreal. Then why did he have the nagging feeling that
something wasn't right?
Miroku didn't see his partners eyes suddenly flash a stone cold blue, but at the same
moment, he felt a wave of utter guilt slide through his veins. His chest shivered with a uneasy
coolness where Sadako had laid her hand. Her other hand gripped tightly on his arm as he moved
away from her kiss.
Sadako panicked. Was she losing him?
Feeling the cold metal of the dagger tied securely against her arm, Sadako knew any
moment would be perfect. She would carve his tomb with ecstacy , but first she had to prevent him
from losing faith in her. Pulling him closer, Sadako whispered into Miroku's ear, "What's wrong?"
What was wrong with him? Suddenly, Miroku felt unsafe and intimidated. His intuition kept
yelling the same words. "This isn't right! This isn't right!" The message pealing off the walls of his
heart like tainted chapel bells.
But why? He asked himself. This had never felt wrong before... before... before Sango came.
Suddenly he knew why he felt guilty for kissing the lady of the palace in her chambers. It was
because Sadako wasn't Sango. Ever since he met the demon slayer, he had only been truly attracted
to her.
This should be Sango I'm with, he thought. I don't know how she feels, but I love her.
He had resorted to someone else though, since Sango kept pushing him away. And with the
gnawing, lonely feelings he had lately, could he help it?
Sadako's nails grazed his neck, sending a haunting refrain into the depths of his soul.
Miroku stepped back to move away, but no sooner had he tried, he felt Sadako's stone grip on his
arms. A demonic spell encircled Miroku as he began sweating in distress, realizing he couldn't move
a muscle.
"No," Sadako whispered harshly. "There is no way you will escape this time, my samurai. It
was foolish of you to use age defying potions and disguise yourself as a monk. Did you think I
wouldn't find you and avenge my death?"
Sweat rolled down Miroku's face and neck as he chided his stupidity. What he gotten
himself into? This demon ghost of a former human was mistakening him for her murderer! This
wasn't the daughter of the daimyo at all.
Sadako lifted her hands and placed her icy fingertips on the monk's face. "Why?" she
pleading in a softened voice that drew sympathy for this lost soul from Miroku's heart. "Why did
you kill me? Did you find someone else who meant more to you than I did? Did you have to kill me
to get me out of the way?!"
The countanence of the previously beautiful mistress twisted and contorted into a hellish
array of fangs and Medusa's hideous eyes of paralization. "Look at what you've done to me! I hate
you every moment of every day and night. Ever since I've died, my soul is in constant turmoil and
unrest. You've turned me into a monster, a constant soul-consuming beast who is being forced to
slowly kill off the real Lady Sadako to get back at you! I hate you, Seto!"
Frustrated with the position he was in, Miroku closed his eyes remembering the Monk
Muschin telling him that hate could turn the most beautiful blossom into a scaly, thwarted
thornbush. I may as well accept my death as punishment for letting my desires get the better of me,
and for not sharing this special moment with Sango, he thought.
The black-haired demon brandished the dagger from under her kimono and touched the tip
of it to Miroku's lips, "It's a shame you can't speak in your defense. I'd love to see what excuse you
have conjured to plead for mercy!"
Sadako raised the dagger above her head and drove it straight for Miroku's head.
Expecting to feel the intense pain o f of metal slicing though his head at any moment,
Miroku was shocked to hear the sound of a chain rushing through the air as it grasped and tightened
around Sadako's wrists. Miroku sensed the paralyzation spell shatter instantly like a glass globe, his
senses unfreezing.
Heaving a sigh of relief, Miroku realized someone was on the other side of the chain weapon
who had saved him.
A young woman stepped out of the shadows holding the other end of the weapon. Miroku
knew only one person with this fighting style...
"Sango!"
Note: Okay, Tari has decided that its breaktime. Within the next week I'll post more of my story.
Please review or else how will I know that you read it? I started this story to be told from both
Miroku and Sango's point of view, but It looks like it's gonna be more from miroku's POV than a
sango's. So if you're a miroku fan keep reading!
Miroku pressed into Sadako's kiss, a sense of pleasure tingling in his lips. He was satisfying
a long wanted hunger inside of himself. The sereneness of the lady's terrace brought a warm
comforting atmosphere under the moonlight. Miroku felt as if his soul had been lifted into a higher
realm of absolute safety. The old man mush have of made a mistake. There was no way Sadako was
a demon. This feeling inside him was unreal. Then why did he have the nagging feeling that
something wasn't right?
Miroku didn't see his partners eyes suddenly flash a stone cold blue, but at the same
moment, he felt a wave of utter guilt slide through his veins. His chest shivered with a uneasy
coolness where Sadako had laid her hand. Her other hand gripped tightly on his arm as he moved
away from her kiss.
Sadako panicked. Was she losing him?
Feeling the cold metal of the dagger tied securely against her arm, Sadako knew any
moment would be perfect. She would carve his tomb with ecstacy , but first she had to prevent him
from losing faith in her. Pulling him closer, Sadako whispered into Miroku's ear, "What's wrong?"
What was wrong with him? Suddenly, Miroku felt unsafe and intimidated. His intuition kept
yelling the same words. "This isn't right! This isn't right!" The message pealing off the walls of his
heart like tainted chapel bells.
But why? He asked himself. This had never felt wrong before... before... before Sango came.
Suddenly he knew why he felt guilty for kissing the lady of the palace in her chambers. It was
because Sadako wasn't Sango. Ever since he met the demon slayer, he had only been truly attracted
to her.
This should be Sango I'm with, he thought. I don't know how she feels, but I love her.
He had resorted to someone else though, since Sango kept pushing him away. And with the
gnawing, lonely feelings he had lately, could he help it?
Sadako's nails grazed his neck, sending a haunting refrain into the depths of his soul.
Miroku stepped back to move away, but no sooner had he tried, he felt Sadako's stone grip on his
arms. A demonic spell encircled Miroku as he began sweating in distress, realizing he couldn't move
a muscle.
"No," Sadako whispered harshly. "There is no way you will escape this time, my samurai. It
was foolish of you to use age defying potions and disguise yourself as a monk. Did you think I
wouldn't find you and avenge my death?"
Sweat rolled down Miroku's face and neck as he chided his stupidity. What he gotten
himself into? This demon ghost of a former human was mistakening him for her murderer! This
wasn't the daughter of the daimyo at all.
Sadako lifted her hands and placed her icy fingertips on the monk's face. "Why?" she
pleading in a softened voice that drew sympathy for this lost soul from Miroku's heart. "Why did
you kill me? Did you find someone else who meant more to you than I did? Did you have to kill me
to get me out of the way?!"
The countanence of the previously beautiful mistress twisted and contorted into a hellish
array of fangs and Medusa's hideous eyes of paralization. "Look at what you've done to me! I hate
you every moment of every day and night. Ever since I've died, my soul is in constant turmoil and
unrest. You've turned me into a monster, a constant soul-consuming beast who is being forced to
slowly kill off the real Lady Sadako to get back at you! I hate you, Seto!"
Frustrated with the position he was in, Miroku closed his eyes remembering the Monk
Muschin telling him that hate could turn the most beautiful blossom into a scaly, thwarted
thornbush. I may as well accept my death as punishment for letting my desires get the better of me,
and for not sharing this special moment with Sango, he thought.
The black-haired demon brandished the dagger from under her kimono and touched the tip
of it to Miroku's lips, "It's a shame you can't speak in your defense. I'd love to see what excuse you
have conjured to plead for mercy!"
Sadako raised the dagger above her head and drove it straight for Miroku's head.
Expecting to feel the intense pain o f of metal slicing though his head at any moment,
Miroku was shocked to hear the sound of a chain rushing through the air as it grasped and tightened
around Sadako's wrists. Miroku sensed the paralyzation spell shatter instantly like a glass globe, his
senses unfreezing.
Heaving a sigh of relief, Miroku realized someone was on the other side of the chain weapon
who had saved him.
A young woman stepped out of the shadows holding the other end of the weapon. Miroku
knew only one person with this fighting style...
"Sango!"
Note: Okay, Tari has decided that its breaktime. Within the next week I'll post more of my story.
Please review or else how will I know that you read it? I started this story to be told from both
Miroku and Sango's point of view, but It looks like it's gonna be more from miroku's POV than a
sango's. So if you're a miroku fan keep reading!