Disclaimer: See Author Profile.
Rating: R, for language and eventually for adult situations.
Summary: Kagome has just had about the worst week in her life. Throw in a dramatic rescue involving three very good-looking guys… and things just might start improving. [AU][Kag/Inu/Mir/Sess ??]
Inertia is defined as "Resistance or disinclination to motion, action, or change" (Webster's Dictionary).
Iron Lotus presents:
Inertia
*
Chapter Three:
Proximity Infatuation
*
Sango was about to burst into tears. There it lay on the kitchen floor, shattered and broken into thousands of pieces. The broken shards of clay had flown throughout kitchen, many of the pieces probably hiding themselves in unreachable crevices under the fridge and the counters… It broke her heart, but she had to admit that her favorite mug – a yellow one with a picture of a kitten drawn onto it – was destroyed.
She had lots of memories with that mug – she had met Miroku at the bookstore that she had been shopping for it in. He had told her that coffee mugs said a lot about a person's personality, and that one should be careful in their selection… she preferred not to remember the rest of that particular memory, which involved his infamous roaming hands. It was a sentimental mug. It had meant a lot to her.
Miroku entered the kitchen to find out what the crashing sound was, and saw his dear Sango kneeling on the linoleum, her sad eyes staring at the scattered pieces of bright yellow painted clay. He placed a hand on her shoulder comfortingly, and helped her to pick up the pieces. Sango knew there was no hope for the mug – she didn't even bother to try and glue it back together, simply throwing the remains of her dear morning companion into the garbage can.
*
Sango shoved her wallet back into her purse and kissed Miroku tenderly before they both left the restaurant and parted ways. It was really a beautiful day. It had been some three weeks since Miroku had moved in with her, and so far they had been pure bliss. That is, pure bliss excluding one little incident where Miroku had hidden her underwear in a perverse attempt at… something. Exactly what, she still couldn't figure out.
The good – or was it bad? – thing about Miroku was that she could manipulate him into doing – or not doing – anything with the threat that he'd never see her naked body again.
A happy little giggle shoved its way out of her mouth at the thought. She was really happy. Miroku was all she needed. She would never give him up.
"Sango?" The voice was foreign to her, but she turned to see who it was that was calling. She collided with a tall gentleman, who grabbed one of her hands and deposited a piece of paper within their grasp.
"What the…" she began to say, over her initial shock from the collision, but she didn't get to finish. Said stranger shut her up by planting a gentle kiss on her lips. Somehow, she didn't resist. Her lips grew warm and her skin tingled from the feel of his breath on her skin. The man pulled away, looking slightly flustered, and walked away in hurry, pausing to turn back and look at her. When he saw that she was looking, he flashed her a sweet smile and continued on his way.
She looked after him for an instant, her mind numb. It wasn't for a few moments before the reality of what had just happened to her came crashing down. A pervert! She had just been kissed by a random pervert on the street! Her hands balled into fists in a feeble attempt to suppress her rage. Her seething mind was distracted, however, when she felt the crumpling up of paper in her right hand.
"What on earth…? Oh." She remembered – the pervert had shoved something into her hands before. She uncrumpled the ball and saw in very carefully penned writing, "Miss Sango, I have loved you from afar. Expect a surprise at your workplace later today." Beneath it was scrawled a set of numbers she assumed to be a telephone number. It wasn't perhaps the most poetic note she had ever read, but it was enough to mildly arouse her curiosity.
She turned the paper over a few times, before seeing that it was unsigned. There was the phone-number though. She would call and inform him that she appreciated the gesture – a statement that was not necessarily true – but that she was already romantically involved. Besides, she thought, an image of Miroku's lecherous grin popping into her mind, a pervert is a pervert regardless of his claims to affection.
Sighing, she started back to the office. She would call when she got there. It was best to get these things out of the way quickly.
Sango was the secretary of a Martial Art's instructor, though she often helped in the running of his classes and teaching of his students. She had her own office, her own desk, and her own window. Sango was especially proud of that window. There was just something to be said about having an office with a window. When she reached her office, though, she saw the mystery pervert seated in one of the chairs across from her desk.
Groaning mentally, Sango entered the office. She would have to shoot him down in person, then, which was always infinitely harder to do than when on the phone.
"Sango," the man said, standing when she approached. "I have to apologize for the… the kiss," he blushed almost endearingly. "You were just so close that I couldn't help it. It was totally out of line. Please… accept my apology…"
He was tall – taller than Miroku by almost six inches, with longer dark hair and deep brown eyes. Studying his features, she concluded that his face was vaguely familiar, but nothing stuck out at her as definitively recognizable.
"Apology accepted, I guess," Sango murmured, moving toward her desk. "If you don't mind my asking… who are you?"
He laughed sheepishly and introduced himself as Takeda Kuranosuke. "I have a younger brother who attends lessons here. I've been watching you help the instructor, and I was just… taken. By your grace, your strength –"
"Please," Sango interjected. "Stop. I already have a boyfriend. We're quite serious, and even moved in together a few weeks ago…" It really wasn't any of his business, and it was far more information than he should have received, but her aim was to discourage the fellow from pursuing her further. This should be enough to persuade him to do as desired.
"I am serious as well, Sango. Please," he said, "Please consider me." And with that, he left a neatly wrapped box on her desk and passed by her, his eyes fixed on hers until for a brief moment, they flashed to her lips. He blushed and left the office, shutting the door quietly behind him.
Curious, Sango opened the package. In it was a plain mug, a soothing, calm olive green color, charmingly bare of ornamentation. She thought back to the shockingly bright yellow mug that she had treasured until its recent unfortunate demise, and a thankful smile crawled onto her face. Shaking her head, Sango sat at her desk and got to work sorting out some mail for her employer. She didn't realize that her fingers had crept up to her lips in a subconscious appreciation of the gentle kiss that this Takeda Kuranosuke had bestowed upon them.
She forgot to call Miroku to let him know that she would be home from work late.
***
Kagome smiled to herself and circled an ad in the newspaper. She was running short of money and being short of a job didn't help her income – this, and her first rent payment was due soon. She would have to scrounge around for the last few dollars to pay for that, and once it was paid, she would be in a state of utter financial ruin: flat broke.
And thus, she was looking for employment. Picking up the phone, she dialed the number indicated in the want ad. After asking a few pertinent questions, she scheduled an appointment for an interview, and ended the call. She grimaced at the thought of having to pay her phone bill – a new worry since the telephone company had just installed a new phone line in the apartment for her use exclusively.
Her eyes drifted around the room. Her bedroom was the pride of her life. She had windows almost all across one of the walls – gasp!! – with a fabulous view. The curtains she had chosen were a deep midnight blue decorated with small silver representations of stars. They matched the bedspread that covered her queen-sized bed. Originally, her mother had bought her the set for college, but the bed she had been provided with was too small, so the bedspread was relatively new.
She liked her rooms to stay cheerful and full of life, however, so she painted one of the walls a soft, glowing yellow that complemented her drapes and comforter. Throughout the room were pictures of her, friends, and family – books littered her desk and her laptop sat on top of it as well, a tangle of wires trailing from it to the wall-plug.
She loved her bedroom.
Taking in a deep breath, she plopped down onto her bed. She was feeling so much more refreshed. Kagome was confident that she would be able to land that job at the interview – she was certain of it. She was about to drift off into a contented nap, when there came a knock at the door. Startled, she sat up on her bed and blinked a few times, coming back into wakefulness.
"Come in," she called, shifting into a more composed position on her bed.
The door opened and someone entirely unexpected walked into her room. He approached her before she could react and leaned in over her, pushing her back on the bed. She felt wisps of his dark brown hair tickle her forehead, his intense brown eyes staring into hers.
"Kagome," he breathed, touching his forehead to hers.
"H-Hojo…" she put her palms on his chest, intending to push him off. "What are you doing here?"
He moved away before she could shove him, and his eyes stayed locked on hers. His mind was in turmoil – why had he come here? "Kagome, I want you to marry me."
It was the last thing that either of them expected, but it made perfect sense… at least, to him. He hadn't intended to say that, but seeing her again had made the words just fly out of his mouth.
And damn it all, it was true.
Kagome blinked rapidly, shocked. The last thing that she had expected was for him, of all people, to show up in her apartment. She hadn't bothered to give him her new address, and he hadn't called her cell phone… Hojo had been something distant, almost. A memory. But… this?
Hojo stood, offering her a brief, if somewhat insincere apology. "Call me… and let me know." With that, he left, leaving a startled young woman in his wake.
She already knew what her answer was – 'no'. She could never marry him, simply because she did not love him. How would she tell him this, though? How had he thought to ask her something this extreme, when she had just ended a relationship with him? She thought that she had made it clear that she wanted to sever romantic ties with him, so how had he gotten the idea to propose?
He had proposed.
Kagome wanted to seek her father out for comfort, but she was unable to. She slept uneasily that night, wallowing in her own thoughts. She couldn't talk to her father about it… he was out for the night. Having a sleepover with Rin.
***
"I got fired because I wouldn't sleep with him," she had said, her eyes reflecting something along the lines of regret and loathing. "Would you mind watching the eggs for me? I have to call my father."
There was a peculiar air around her while they had eaten. Her eyes would shine with interest and life when she looked at either of them, but when she lowered them, they were filled with something akin to pain. The omelet was delicious – a tantalizing mixture of egg, onion, tomato, green pepper and cheese.
They had driven her home. Miroku and her had made pleasant chatter, but he had driven in silence, listening to the soft tone of her voice and the liquid qualities of her unusual – cute, but unusual – laugh. She had been very appreciative of their rescue of her. She had offered to take them to lunch – her treat – but they had declined. It had been nothing, and they were simply glad that she was safe.
She was safe. But the bastard that had attacked her…
Inuyasha pushed him and smiled with satisfaction when the smell of blood hit his noise. It had been really rather a surprise when he had shown up at work and saw that man there, flirting with one of the secretaries. A blind anger had possessed him then, and he had dragged the man out of the lobby and into the garage. There he was now, leaning limply against the wall that Inuyasha had thrown him at, blood dripping out of his nose.
"What the fuck?" the man cried, standing up. He said something about Inuyasha being completely unjustified, but it met deaf ears. When he saw that Inuyasha had crouched slightly, his eyes shaded over with a sense of predatory anticipation, he blanched. "What are you doing? Who are you?"
"Does it matter, fuck-face?" Inuyasha asked, blinking his iridescent yellow eyes and grinning evilly. With that, he launched at the blonde haired man and pummeled him, euphorically exacting vengeance on Kagome's part. No woman deserved to be treated in the manner that Kagome had been treated. She had cried silently, tearlessly, all through that morning. No woman deserved to cry.
And this bastard was to be punished for committing such a heinous act as he had.
He didn't expect the blonde man to retaliate, and the wind was knocked out of him as a punch landed square in his stomach. He fell backwards, watching as the blonde man stood, his lips torn, nose bleeding, and face swollen with the promise of bruising. Inuyasha knew that the man wanted nothing more than to flee. It was an exhilarating feeling – he jumped to his feet and kicked him between his shoulder-blades, watching with a sense of overwhelming satisfaction as the man was blown into a wall, going unconscious from the impact and crumpling to the ground.
Inuyasha adjusted his suit and went back up the stairs to the lobby, leaving his victim in the garage. He had a busy day of work ahead of him – it was nice that it had gotten off to such a good start.
***
Sango jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked to see who it was that had entered her personal space, and was surprised that she was surprised to see Miroku standing there. His eyes looked concerned and confused, and she knew she was in for an interrogation. Suddenly irritated, she turned her attention back to the computer screen.
Miroku's eyes flashed with hurt but Sango did not see. He looked at the back of her head for a moment but closed his eyes in an attempt to strengthen himself. "Sango."
"Mm?" She asked, still not looking his way.
"Sango, could you look at me please?"
"Miroku –" she began, her eyes flashing and her tone impatient.
He interrupted her with a look that could have set her hair on fire, if nature would have allowed it to do so. She froze and waited for him to speak. "What the hell has been going on with you lately?"
"Nothing –"
"No, no, no. Don't give me that look. It's definitely not 'nothing'. That's total BS. What's going on?"
Sango took a deep breath and grabbed his wrist, moving from the computer and taking him into the living room. She sat with him on the couch and looked into his eyes, inhaling once more, gearing up for what she had to say.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she was ready to face her demons. He was looking at her expectantly, waiting for the reason behind her madness. And as much as it pained her, she had to give him a reason. "I got a new mug, Miroku."
"You're being this pissy because of the mug?" he said incredulously.
She shook her head, a little impatient. "No, Miroku." She looked at him, attentive to everything she had to say, his hand still holding hers. God, she thought, imprinting his image into her mind. Oh God, help me.
Miroku was handsome, funny, smart, perfect… they had been together for three or four years now – which, she wasn't sure, since they weren't really sticklers about anniversaries – and those years had been pure heaven for her. She needed him by her side, and she loved him. That was all that there was to it. They were perfect together. They belonged together. Nobody doubted it, nobody believed otherwise. God, she whispered in silent prayer. Let him understand.
"I got a new mug, Miroku. And it wasn't you who gave it to me."
He looked at her uncertainly for a moment and then, slowly, understanding dawned in the violet depths of his eyes. Understanding. So he understood.
"How long has this been going on?" he asked, pulling his hands away from hers. Immediately, she missed their warmth. He took the elastic out of his hair and raked his hand through it before putting it back up into that little ponytail at the nape of his neck. She wanted to reach over and comb her hands through it – but she couldn't. There was a barrier between them now. Now that she had spoken, things would never be the same between them again, regardless of whether they wanted them to or not.
God, she amended, let him accept this.
***
Life was being so ridiculously unfair. She was having a difficult time trying to understand what it was that she had done – since she must have done something – in order for things to be as shitty as they were now. She was sitting on a park bench, her hands folded in her lap, her eyes blind to everything around her as she looked blankly ahead of her.
She sat on that park bench, her breathing slow and steady as though she were enjoying the scenery, though her mind whirled and reeled as thoughts flashed like wildfire through her head. She was oblivious to anything happening around her – she did not notice the soft summer breeze or pleasant way that the sun shone down on her. She did not see the children playing across from her in the playground that was not too far off, she did not hear their carefree laughter ringing through the air. The swaying of the grass and the tree branches overhead did not attract her attention – she merely sat there, motionless.
To anyone else, it would have seemed like a gorgeous day just ripe with opportunity. It was on days like these, it seemed that things happened. Life-altering things. Today was the perfect sort of day for a life to begin anew. Or so it would seem, to anyone who wasn't her.
Oh – something had happened to her today, alright. It seemed, however, that it was not that a life-changing opportunity, ripe for the plucking, had popped up in her face. Something had happened, alright. Something that perfectly fit the trend her life had been taking lately.
"I'm sorry, miss."
His voice had been thin of patience. It had bitten her with its acidity, broken her with its coldness.
"I'm sorry, miss, but the answer is no."
He had known her name, anyway. And even if he hadn't, it was there on the resume that he had sitting in front of him on his desk, right next to the cheery picture that Sango had taken for her during her days in college. Sure, it was some-what an outdated picture, but it was a good one, and her name was right next to it. 'I'm sorry, Higurashi-san…' Would it really have been that difficult to have just said her name?
Her hands, so neatly folded in her lap, clenched each other tightly, and started trembling with a mix of suppressed anger and sadness. Almost as though it was reflecting her mood, the few clouds that hung in the sky darkened lightly and let a soft, soothing drizzle pour out from them. The pitter-patter of the unexpected droplets did not catch her attention either, though perhaps subconsciously, she shivered from the sudden chill.
It had startled the children and they dashed about, scurrying to get out of the light rain. She stayed where she was, though, her hands still shaking from gripping each other so tightly. She sat on the bench in the middle of that now-abandoned park, the soft summer mist surrounding her and taking her in. Her clothing took little time to soak through, and the continuous drizzle took its time in saturating any part of her that was dry.
The sun remained in the sky throughout the light shower, the sky blue, and the clouds white. It was as though there were no rain clouds at all up in the giant, sunny blue expanse above. But it rained. And she found it entirely appropriate.
She remained tuned out to her environment, not feeling when the chill touch of the rain ceased to fall on her. A long moment after they ceased to touch her, a voice drawled out over the pattering of rain around them, "You're making yourself a perfect target for any wandering mugger or rapist, you know."
It was at his voice that she snapped out of her daze and looked up. He stood there, glorious, wrapped in a trench coat despite the fact that it was still midsummer, a matching umbrella in his left hand. Before she could say anything, his golden eyes looked down at her, and with a hushing tone, he said, "You were overqualified."
"… Is that it, then?" Her anger slowly began to surface. "I didn't get the only good job on the market because it would have been easy for me?"
He closed his eyes as though struggling for patience. "It wasn't worthy of you. Someone with your skills would never be satisfied with such menial work." He looked down at her, drenched, soaked through to her bones on the wooden park bench. Her eyes look defiantly up at him, flashing with a range of emotions like he had never seen. There was something about this girl. She was forgettable and haunting all at once. "Get up. My car is over there."
She didn't move. Her hands trembled still in her lap, although now due equally to the sudden realization that she was freezing as due to her anger. Her stormy gray eyes looked up at him, almost contemptuously, her hair falling in limp, wet waves over her back and sticking to her face. She was clammy. Clammy, and cold and miserable. But she did not move.
He extended a hand. "We're running another ad for a higher position, more fit for your capabilities, in tomorrow's paper. Look out for it should you still care to apply," he said, his voice coaxing, willing her to do his bidding.
Was he trying to comfort her? He, the man that had refused to use her name at the interview earlier in the afternoon? She knew she shouldn't have complied, but there was something in his eyes that compelled her to obey. And thus, she heeded her body's cry for warmth and shelter, and took his outstretched hand, allowing him to help her to her feet.
He walked alongside her under the safety of his umbrella, watching her expression grow tired and wary. He had been driving home when he had passed by the park. He had seen her there, seated on the park bench in the middle of the rain, her hands in her lap and her chin tipped downwards slightly. The moment that she had entered his field of vision, he had thought how vulnerable she looked, how dangerous it was for her to be sitting there so openly. She filled his mind, much as she had on the balcony at the dinner a few nights prior. It was funny how easily he had forgotten their moment of companionship on that balcony – how he had not given her a second thought after she had left his office – but that when she entered his presence, she became all that he could think about.
He had heard Miroku put a term to this sort of feeling before. What had he called it?
A proximity infatuation. This was exactly how it was with Kagome. So easily cast from memory and yet so utterly engrossing…
He laid his trench coat inside out over the passenger seat of his car so that she could sit on the wet side and avoid damaging the leather of his car, and shut the door behind her.
They drove in silence. He was keenly aware of the sound of her breathing, the gentle, quiet exhalations soothing to the ear, and even more aware of the fact that she clutched her arms desperately, hoping to warm herself up. When they reached his apartment, he showed her to Rin's old room, handing her a set of towels to use and a bathrobe to wear, and then taking her wet clothing to put in the dryer. She showered quickly and toweled her hair dry before changing into the slightly large bathrobe.
When she stepped out into the bedroom, she found it empty. Somewhat hesitantly, she left the room and walked down the vaguely familiar hallway to where she remembered the stairs were. She had had a bit of a hangover the last time that she was there – though it wasn't the most noticeable, and by far not the worst one she'd ever had – and so navigating the hallways was proving a bit of a task for her tired mind.
Once she was down the stairs, she found her way to the kitchen. Kagome touched a hand to the counter, feeling its smooth, familiar surface under her fingertips. Sesshoumaru, she recalled, had not come down for breakfast that day when she had woken up in a strange bed in their apartment…
She felt a hand touch her elbow and looked up to see him there. He led her away from the kitchen and into another room – the den, he said as they entered. He guided her to a fluffy, comfortable couch, and said simply, "sit".
She obeyed without hesitation. "Sesshoumaru…" she paused, unsure as to how to continue. "… Thank you."
He left the room, making no sign that he acknowledged her gratitude. She hugged the fluffy bathrobe around her and sighed. When Sesshoumaru returned, he saw her there, hugging herself and sobbing lightly. He set down the mug of coffee he had brought for her and sat on the couch by her side.
His eyes widened in surprise when she turned to him and buried her head in his chest, crying into him. He reveled in her warmth, and awkwardly put a hand on her back, hoping that it was a comforting gesture.
After a while, she righted herself and pulled away from him, rubbing her slightly puffy eyes. "I'm sorry… its just that nothing has been going well for me lately. I don't think I can take any more of this… you know, of things turning sour on me…"
Wordlessly, he handed her the mug which was full of still pleasantly hot coffee. She took it from him, giving him a thankful smile. Funny, she thought, that he should offer her comfort when he was the cause of her latest problem.
This girl filled the entirety of his mind when she was close, but when they were apart, she did not plague him in the least. At the moment, he was taken in by the scent of her hair, smelling faintly like apple. He smiled to himself. He had bought that shampoo for himself, but Inuyasha had wanted to steal it, so Sesshoumaru had hidden it in Rin's shower. It had been forgotten after a while, but the smell was distinct and he liked the way that it mixed in with those raven tresses of hers.
He watched her as she took a sip of the coffee he had prepared for her, her stormy gray eyes partially closed, her long black lashes curling and hiding her eyes from view. It was… a seductive look, to say the least. He wondered somewhere in the back of his mind if the bathrobe would retain her smell for long after she returned it to him. He turned away, trying to focus on something else.
'Really,' she thought, peering at him when he was not looking at her, 'he can be pretty nice…' her assumption from the party a few nights prior summoned itself into her mind. 'And just as likely, taken. The good ones always are… especially when I'm looking for them.'
As covert as she thought her looking at him was, her gaze did not go unnoticed by Sesshoumaru. He made no move, however; simply waiting for her to let out whatever it was that was in her mind.
"Are you involved with anyone, Sesshoumaru?"
Everything rested on this answer. If he said no, it would be the truth, and it would be an invitation to her, telling her that he would consider her. Regrettably for her, she was easy to disregard, and therefore deserved no false encouragement if she would not keep his interest long, which she would no doubt do. "Yes," he replied flatly, lying through his teeth. All that mattered, though, was that she was discouraged from pursuing him.
"Figured," she replied, just as blandly, not looking fazed in the least.
***
Atsue opened the front door to the apartment and was surprised to see the face of a strange woman standing at the door. She had a few suitcases scattered around her, and tear-streaks on her face. In a soft voice, she asked, "Is Kagome home?"
He glanced at his watch and noted the time. "It's eight already? She should be home in a few minutes. If you would like to leave your stuff in her rooms? Let me help you move this," he offered, not hesitating to let the fragile looking girl into the apartment. They moved her things into Kagome's room and he left her there, on Kagome's bed before going back out and trying to call his daughter.
He didn't need to, as it turned out. She walked right into the house before he could get to the front door to shut it. At her questioning look, he explained that there was a woman in her room, waiting for her. Kagome nodded, guessing that it was Sango, and went to her room. There her friend sat, a mess on her bed, disheveled and unhappy looking.
"Sango! What's wrong, honey?" Kagome asked, switching into mothering-gear.
Sango explained through her tears about meeting Takeda Kuranosuke and how she had broken up with Miroku. She was letting him stay in the apartment until he could move out, and then she would take it back again. She only needed a place to stay until then.
"Two or three days, Kagome, that's all I need, I promise…"
Circling the older girl in her arms, Kagome embraced her, soothingly stroking her hair. "Shh, Sango. It's alright, it's alright. Stay as long as you need," she murmured, consoling the crying girl in her arms.
It seemed to Kagome, perhaps for the first time, that she wasn't alone. Sango and her father and everyone had been there for her, but she had not turned to them for the support that she needed. She realized how selfish she had been, excluding them from what had been going on in her life. Sango had turned to her for support, though, and she promised herself that she would be there for her friend.
Eventually, she succeeded in lulling Sango to sleep. She left the girl curled up on the bed and wandered into the room across the hall, grabbing the cordless phone from off of the coffee table to call her mother.
***
In Chapter Four: Their fingers intertwined as he led her down the hall to his room… Her cheeks reddened when she realized that his intense eyes were staring straight into hers … Kagura ran from the room, ignoring his calls for her to come back… It was like something out of a dream…
AN I am so pissed. You all have no idea. It's nothing related to the story, but my parents are being really bitchy lately. It's like... what the hell. Anyway. Here's chapter three. There will be a short pause before chapter four, since my brother is coming back from college and I cant wait to chill with him.
Anyway. Please enjoy this chapter!! I'm setting things up for some major romantic conflict in a few chapters. Say yay, people. Say it loud.
Many a Thanks to
Deka Dieche: I'm glad you enjoyed, and thanks so much for the compliment!! Here's chapter three, then. Please look forward to chapter four!
LovelyLioness57: I know, it was only a little S/K, and it wasn't exactly fluff… but hey. I'm getting there.
Amyfushigiyugi: Thank you so much for taking the time to read this fic! I'm glad you're enjoying it. ^_^
Dark-Fire-Phoenix: I cant leave Miroku and Sango together, though! Of course… they could always get together at the end, if their other relationships don't work out too well… but until then, I have to play with them a little bit, ne?