I really have nothing relevant to say here. o.o; *fakes it* Colin was the beta, Mixe and Rin provided fangirl cheering, and yea.
I'll be posting a Naraku x Sessho oneshot pwp on my ficpage, sometime in the next couple of days. Keep an eye out for it, if you're interested~
--==--
It had been days since he had gotten the courage to go back to actually talk to Hiroshige-sensei. Weeks, even. At least two. Not that he was counting or anything.
But damnit, it still bothered him, how the teacher got that haunted look in his eyes every time he really looked at Masa. Especially since the he seemed like a really decent guy. He was really a great teacher, he made history come alive, as if he had really been there.
Really, Masa was extremely lucky to have a teacher like that, who for once made a subject interesting and fun, instead of necessary. Masa paid attention in Hiroshige-sensei's class because he wanted to, not just because he had to pass his exams.
Perhaps that was why he had practically memorized Hiroshige-sensei's schedule, and thought about him almost as much as he did about Sana, and felt compelled to go back to Hiroshige-sensei. He just wanted to try to ease some of that awful pain that he saw in him.
So, maybe that's why he was standing there now, after all the students had cleared out, watching Hiroshige-sensei pack up his things.
"Tanizaki..." He paused. "Forgive me. It's Masa, right? Can I help you?" His words were clipped, cool.
Masa grinned and nodded. "Yup. Fancy meeting you here, Hiroshige-sensei."
The teacher narrowed his eyes impatiently. "Don't you have somewhere to be Masa?"
Uh-oh, he was annoying him already. Not the best set-up for a heart-to-heart. Still, he couldn't resist smiling like a loon and making a joke out of it. "Technically? Yea. Truthfully, though, I don't think the walk home is missing me all that much. Besides, I really just had a quick question."
"Yes?" He snapped his briefcase shut, stood up, looking at Masa expectantly.
"Um... yea." He bit his lip, wussing out at the last second. "Did you... really want that essay by Monday? I mean, that's so soon, and I..."
A blink and a deeply irritated silence was his only response as the teacher started to walk towards the door.
Masa winced and mentally kicked himself as the teacher passed him. He was losing a perfect opportunity. "Right, so maybe that's not what I really wanted to ask. It's just that this is kind of a weird question, especially considering that you're my teacher and all."
"What is it?" He stopped, turned around, frowning slightly.
"I. Well... you see. The thing is. Hiroshige-sensei, are you... alright? You seem, I don't know. Sad, and kind of distant when you look at me. Like you're remembering something."
The silence stretched out between them, and that strange ache in was back in the teacher's gaze, but it was somehow worse this time. He stepped forward in response to that pain that called him, his hand raising automatically.
Hiroshige-sensei's eyes widened and he reached up to catch Masa's hand. "Masa, I..." He shuddered slightly, and shook his head, closing his eyes. "What do you remember?" The question was so soft, it took him a moment to realize what the teacher had asked. And when he did, he wasn't sure he understood it.
Masa frowned. "Hiroshige-sensei?"
When the other man finally made eye contact with him, Masa almost wished he hadn't. He gasped and tried to gently pull his hand from the teacher's grip as he started to step back, suddenly frightened of the intensity of his gaze, which threatened to swallow him whole.
"Masa.... Miroku."
Miroku? He shivered. Something in the older man's gaze and the way he breathed the unfamiliar name affected him in a way he didn't understand. It reached out to him, crackling around him like electricity. It frightened him.
He stared up at the teacher, and his face seemed to ripple, to change. Silver hair replaced black, strange colors ghosted over his skin. And hovering on his lips was that unfamiliar name.
"Miroku."
He resisted, no longer trying to be subtle about his efforts to break away from the teacher's grasp, shaking his head violently. He wasn't Miroku, he was... his mind went blank as he searched for something he knew should be there, but wasn't.
There was a set of prayer beads, twined around his hand, breaking and spilling into a shallow pool of blood, bouncing, shattering. Sparkling shards of glass - or a crystal - lying in the thick, congealed blood, glittering like tears, glowing, filling his mind with a terrible brightness.
Wind was howling about him, and he couldn't breathe. His head was spinning, and image upon image came crashing in on him, harder, faster, trying to destroy what was left of him and turn him into someone - something else, and he couldn't see anything but blood and pain, and he couldn't hear anything but the screams - the high, frightened screams of death as he was sucked towards a vast and immeasurable void. It didn't occur to them that they were his.
Finally, when he was sure that he couldn't take it anymore, that what was left of him would be shattered by whatever was whipping through his mind, it stopped, leaving only a cool, peaceful darkness.
--==--
Sesshomaru's heart was beating faster than it had in decades, if not centuries. The boy had just started screaming, and only stopped when he had finally hit him hard enough to leave him unconscious.
He lay, slumped over Sesshomaru's chest, breathing shallowly, and frighteningly pale. Some of his hair had come loose, falling over his face. The youkai brushed it back gently, frowning.
One thing was certain, Masa did not remember anything. Not that he had really expected him to.
But what on earth had that all be about? It was almost as if the boy had suddenly been caught in a dream. His eyes had grown unfocused, and his body rigid, unfeeling. Perhaps he was remembering something?
Sesshomaru sighed. No, that was impossible. It must have been something else, something he had done that had triggered some internal fear in his student. Humans were fragile like that.
The best thing he could do now would be to get him to the nurse's office, and then avoid the boy as best he could. Permanently. As it was, he was only inflicting his own problems on the boy, and that was the last thing he needed.
He picked Masa up, sighing. Really, it was for the best.
--==--
Miroku woke up suddenly, choking back a scream on a throat that already felt raw and bloody.
Too many voices, too many memories clawed at him. Sango, Kagome, Inuyasha... they called for him, screamed, pleaded, their voices blending together in an unfocused miasma.
His head throbbed, and he felt like throwing up as he sat up slowly, taking in his surroundings.
He was in the nurse's office, alone. He slid off the bed, holding a hand to his head. What the hell was happening? How did he get here? Last he remembered, he had been trying unsuccessfully to talk to Hiroshige-sensei.
Wait. His eyes widened as he started remembering Hiroshige-sensei, calling him a name that made no sense. A name that he had just used to refer to himself.
And suddenly, he remembered it all.
I'll be posting a Naraku x Sessho oneshot pwp on my ficpage, sometime in the next couple of days. Keep an eye out for it, if you're interested~
--==--
It had been days since he had gotten the courage to go back to actually talk to Hiroshige-sensei. Weeks, even. At least two. Not that he was counting or anything.
But damnit, it still bothered him, how the teacher got that haunted look in his eyes every time he really looked at Masa. Especially since the he seemed like a really decent guy. He was really a great teacher, he made history come alive, as if he had really been there.
Really, Masa was extremely lucky to have a teacher like that, who for once made a subject interesting and fun, instead of necessary. Masa paid attention in Hiroshige-sensei's class because he wanted to, not just because he had to pass his exams.
Perhaps that was why he had practically memorized Hiroshige-sensei's schedule, and thought about him almost as much as he did about Sana, and felt compelled to go back to Hiroshige-sensei. He just wanted to try to ease some of that awful pain that he saw in him.
So, maybe that's why he was standing there now, after all the students had cleared out, watching Hiroshige-sensei pack up his things.
"Tanizaki..." He paused. "Forgive me. It's Masa, right? Can I help you?" His words were clipped, cool.
Masa grinned and nodded. "Yup. Fancy meeting you here, Hiroshige-sensei."
The teacher narrowed his eyes impatiently. "Don't you have somewhere to be Masa?"
Uh-oh, he was annoying him already. Not the best set-up for a heart-to-heart. Still, he couldn't resist smiling like a loon and making a joke out of it. "Technically? Yea. Truthfully, though, I don't think the walk home is missing me all that much. Besides, I really just had a quick question."
"Yes?" He snapped his briefcase shut, stood up, looking at Masa expectantly.
"Um... yea." He bit his lip, wussing out at the last second. "Did you... really want that essay by Monday? I mean, that's so soon, and I..."
A blink and a deeply irritated silence was his only response as the teacher started to walk towards the door.
Masa winced and mentally kicked himself as the teacher passed him. He was losing a perfect opportunity. "Right, so maybe that's not what I really wanted to ask. It's just that this is kind of a weird question, especially considering that you're my teacher and all."
"What is it?" He stopped, turned around, frowning slightly.
"I. Well... you see. The thing is. Hiroshige-sensei, are you... alright? You seem, I don't know. Sad, and kind of distant when you look at me. Like you're remembering something."
The silence stretched out between them, and that strange ache in was back in the teacher's gaze, but it was somehow worse this time. He stepped forward in response to that pain that called him, his hand raising automatically.
Hiroshige-sensei's eyes widened and he reached up to catch Masa's hand. "Masa, I..." He shuddered slightly, and shook his head, closing his eyes. "What do you remember?" The question was so soft, it took him a moment to realize what the teacher had asked. And when he did, he wasn't sure he understood it.
Masa frowned. "Hiroshige-sensei?"
When the other man finally made eye contact with him, Masa almost wished he hadn't. He gasped and tried to gently pull his hand from the teacher's grip as he started to step back, suddenly frightened of the intensity of his gaze, which threatened to swallow him whole.
"Masa.... Miroku."
Miroku? He shivered. Something in the older man's gaze and the way he breathed the unfamiliar name affected him in a way he didn't understand. It reached out to him, crackling around him like electricity. It frightened him.
He stared up at the teacher, and his face seemed to ripple, to change. Silver hair replaced black, strange colors ghosted over his skin. And hovering on his lips was that unfamiliar name.
"Miroku."
He resisted, no longer trying to be subtle about his efforts to break away from the teacher's grasp, shaking his head violently. He wasn't Miroku, he was... his mind went blank as he searched for something he knew should be there, but wasn't.
There was a set of prayer beads, twined around his hand, breaking and spilling into a shallow pool of blood, bouncing, shattering. Sparkling shards of glass - or a crystal - lying in the thick, congealed blood, glittering like tears, glowing, filling his mind with a terrible brightness.
Wind was howling about him, and he couldn't breathe. His head was spinning, and image upon image came crashing in on him, harder, faster, trying to destroy what was left of him and turn him into someone - something else, and he couldn't see anything but blood and pain, and he couldn't hear anything but the screams - the high, frightened screams of death as he was sucked towards a vast and immeasurable void. It didn't occur to them that they were his.
Finally, when he was sure that he couldn't take it anymore, that what was left of him would be shattered by whatever was whipping through his mind, it stopped, leaving only a cool, peaceful darkness.
--==--
Sesshomaru's heart was beating faster than it had in decades, if not centuries. The boy had just started screaming, and only stopped when he had finally hit him hard enough to leave him unconscious.
He lay, slumped over Sesshomaru's chest, breathing shallowly, and frighteningly pale. Some of his hair had come loose, falling over his face. The youkai brushed it back gently, frowning.
One thing was certain, Masa did not remember anything. Not that he had really expected him to.
But what on earth had that all be about? It was almost as if the boy had suddenly been caught in a dream. His eyes had grown unfocused, and his body rigid, unfeeling. Perhaps he was remembering something?
Sesshomaru sighed. No, that was impossible. It must have been something else, something he had done that had triggered some internal fear in his student. Humans were fragile like that.
The best thing he could do now would be to get him to the nurse's office, and then avoid the boy as best he could. Permanently. As it was, he was only inflicting his own problems on the boy, and that was the last thing he needed.
He picked Masa up, sighing. Really, it was for the best.
--==--
Miroku woke up suddenly, choking back a scream on a throat that already felt raw and bloody.
Too many voices, too many memories clawed at him. Sango, Kagome, Inuyasha... they called for him, screamed, pleaded, their voices blending together in an unfocused miasma.
His head throbbed, and he felt like throwing up as he sat up slowly, taking in his surroundings.
He was in the nurse's office, alone. He slid off the bed, holding a hand to his head. What the hell was happening? How did he get here? Last he remembered, he had been trying unsuccessfully to talk to Hiroshige-sensei.
Wait. His eyes widened as he started remembering Hiroshige-sensei, calling him a name that made no sense. A name that he had just used to refer to himself.
And suddenly, he remembered it all.