*Is very sore from handball* There is NO getting on my case about updating,
I play a sport now. It takes up lots of time when your season is only a
month and a half. So here we go...
Lyrics are to White Flame, by Wieß (the song is from Wieß Kruz)
Also, I use a word only once here, so the translation won't be at the
bottom. The word is 'otto', and it means husband, in the context of 'my
husband'. As well, I use 'iinazuke', which means fiancé/fiancée. That's
all!
---
Day Three, Meditation and a Move Forward
Lunch was a nearly silent affair, and Miroku didn't enjoy his thoughts. Sango, married? To a man that she disliked, no less? He couldn't imagine it. Being of a similar type to this Raidon fellow, he couldn't help thinking that Sango would hate every minute of that life. It would be one of dishonor, with her husband taking any woman to his bed that he chose.
'It is not a question of whether he would, though,' he sighed to himself, 'it's a question of whether I would do the same.'
This thought weighed heavily on his mind. Certainly, he had flirted with a great many women, but to actually make love to one was impossible. For one, no woman would bear the child of a monk. They would see it as blasphemy. But to take a wife, and keep her, was no trouble.
Following his beliefs, Miroku would keep his powers and his wife, as well as be able to sire as many children as he liked. Once wed, he would be able to bed any woman who would do such a thing, and there were many. The thought of caring for anyone but Sango had not crossed his mind until now, when she was at stake.
He stood.
"Sango, please excuse me for leaving before we have completed lunch. I have need of meditation, and will be back before nightfall," he said, and bowing, started off in the direction of the nearest waterfall. Upon arriving, he stripped down to his leggings and sat down beneath the pounding water, his shakujo nearby. The incessant beating of the water deafened him to the rest of the world, and the weight, while heavy, was comforting. He began to count his breathing.
'In . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five . . . six . . . seven . . . eight . . . out . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five . . . six . . . seven . . . eight . . . in . . . two . . .'
As soon as the pattern became second nature, which didn't take long, he allowed his mind to wander, keeping part of him focused on his breath. His thoughts began to come to the surface, and he allowed himself to organize them slowly, bit by bit.
First, there were his feelings towards Raidon -- annoyance, for what he did/was doing to Sango. Acceptable, understandable, and well enough as it was, but then there was the nervousness that accompanied the man's presence. Also, this was understandable, because of his connection to Sango.
~As the evening settles, say your prayers, let me kiss you so tenderly
As the moon begins to rise above, I am forced to change drastically...~
Out of the depths of meditation, a memory swam forwards. A tall, slender woman was prominent, her black hair covered by a plain kerchief. A man came up behind her, kneeling to wrap arms around her as she scrubbed the laundry. Both were youthful, and it was obvious that they were lovers, at the very least. But lo, the man was a monk, and from the way he was staring at her she must be his wife. She was quite beautiful, despite the plainness of her clothing, and a smile broke over her face as she turned in his arms to kiss her husband. A small voice piped up.
"Mama?"
The couple broke apart, and looked down at a small child. Indigo eyes stared out from a small face, and his hair was tied in a small ponytail at the base of his neck. He looked at his parents with a curious expression.
"What are you doing?"
A laugh rang out from the woman, and her husband ruffled the boy's hair.
"Oh, Miroku . . ." he sighed, and his wife answered the boy's question.
"We were kissing, sweetheart."
Too young to yet be the hentai he would grow into; the young Miroku looked, puzzled, at his mother, asking her what that was.
"Kami," she laughed. "Otto, would you like to answer this question? He's your son."
"As I remember, you helped," the man countered, but turned to his son. How was he to explain this, without earning a smack from Keiko? She wanted her son's mind to stay pure as long as possible. Starting carefully, he said:
"Kissing . . . is something you do with someone you love. Sometimes, when a man and a woman are in love, they want to be near each other so much that their mouths come together, and their souls speak."
There, that was well done.
"Do you love mama, houshi-sama?"
Keiko turned, her dark eyes glinting mischievously.
"Yes, do you love mama, otto?" she asked, a wicked smile on her face. He answered without missing a beat, because it was the truth.
"With all my heart, I do."
Miroku watched in awe-filled curiosity as his mother turned once more to kiss the monk that was his father. Would he ever find someone he would kiss?
Three days later, he and his father would leave for the temple where Mushin lived, and there they would stay until the man who loved Keiko so died.
In the present, a fully grown Miroku suddenly knew the answer to his young self's question. Yes, he had found someone he wanted to kiss.
~Don't forget the person I am in the day, don't forget the good in my life
Don't forget this ache that I feel in my heart, don't forget my pain and my strife~
Sango, his beautiful, brave, loyal, stubborn, impulsive . . . something in him sighed. He had always respected the taiji-ya, and still did. Enough so, that in the beginning, he did not ask her to bear his child. Somewhere along the line, that respect for Sango had twisted and flowered into love.
He didn't let himself think the word love, not quite. Affection, deep care, maybe even infatuation, but he wouldn't allow himself to love her, not yet. He didn't know why. Maybe it was because she was so . . . amazing. Or was it the feeling that was wild?
Whatever it was, it was so strong, as if it could floor even the greatest warrior. And it had, many a time. The force of the emotion, the lack of a definition, of a way of explaining why, was terrifying and thrilling all at once.
Emotion was one of the things he had been taught to control, but he definitely wasn't in control right now. The capability to keep calm and poised was one he had prided himself on, it was so important. If he lost it now, he'd be hopeless. So there would be control, no matter what.
The idea of Raidon getting to Sango floated across his mind, and he grimaced. The idea of that . . . man having anything to do with her was horrifying. He had known many men like himself over the years that he traveled -- most of them were after woman as possessions instead of people. He, thankfully, had never gotten to that point.
But the aura Raidon seemed to emanate said quite the opposite. Sango would be a trophy wife, and then he would take any number of women to his bed behind her back.
It was a struggle to keep his mind clear, it was so infuriating. Caring for Sango, even as a friend, he could not allow it. Counting his breathing backwards, he slowly rose and dried off, planning to head to camp. It was almost dusk; he had been there a long while.
~Go to sleep and dream of happiness, I will keep you safe in the night
Surrounded by flames of endless white, sinners chased away by the light . . .~
Sango sighed; she had little to do while she waited for Miroku to return. Finally, she settled down to polish her hiraikotsu. She frowned a little as she ran her fingers over an old split. Totosai had fixed it for her, and done a fine job of it. Unfortunately, there would always be a small scar. But it flew better now than ever, she had to admit, even though it had been a long, long time.
There was a noise behind her, and she stood, gripping the weapon in such a way that she could attack if necessary.
"Still the best, I see," a voice drawled. She didn't relax, but put down hiraikotsu. Raidon walked out.
"Hello, Sango. Where is your houshi?" he said, smiling pleasantly. The smile didn't reach his eyes, though. She balked slightly at his use of the phrase 'your houshi'.
"Houshi-sama has gone to meditate," she told him truthfully, "He said he would be back before nightfall."
The man nodded, obviously thinking to himself. He sat down, and motioned for Sango to join him.
"To tell you the truth, I am glad the monk is gone. I don't like the looks of him. Also, I wanted to speak to you."
Still standing, the taiji-ya nodded.
"Speak," she sighed.
"You've grown up, Sango. You're not the same girl who fought at the village. When I heard your entire clan had been annihilated, I began a search for you. The graves certainly seemed to say someone had been there. I followed rumors of a demon-huntress that carried a flying bone, and traveled with strange company. It seemed to be you, but I had to know for certain. And now, here you are, my soon-to-be wife, alive and well."
Sango winced. Would she still marry Raidon? His charm and story were lost on her, she didn't care. To become part of a village again . . . to live as a taiji-ya, could she do that? Could she leave Miroku, Kagome, Inuyasha, and Shippo to marry this man she hated? Her father and Kohaku had wanted her to.
This stopped her. Her family . . . friends . . . everyone. They had all been happy to see her married – at least, those that weren't female. They had wanted this match for her. To do this would be to fulfill her father's wishes. It was what he had wanted . . .
Raidon stood, and moved toward her.
"Look at you," he said, his eyes discomforting. "You've grown so beautiful. Certainly by now you've been claimed, what am I talking about?"
She shook her head.
"No, I'm not . . . claimed," she whispered. For a moment, Miroku's face flickered in her mind. What would he say, to see this conversation. For some reason, she felt guilty. The hunter before her smirked.
"Really? That's . . . surprising," he said, moving closer. He was less than a few inches away now, his eyes hovering over her face. "I would have thought I was too late. Even that monk of yours would have noticed you."
Miroku? Yea, as a warm body, maybe. Raidon's closeness was awkward, and she backed up a little. He moved forward again, and she frowned.
"What are you doing?"
He ignored her question, moving closer still, until Sango was up against a tree. She braced her hands against his shoulders and pushed, but he set himself in an old position she recognized, turning one foot out and grounding himself. There would be no moving him, and she sighed.
"I advise you to back off, Raidon."
"Don't fuss, Sango," he smiled. "I just want a taste . . ."
Her face drained to a wan color, she bragged his hip and shoulder and pushed, to no effect. She tried to strike at him, and he grabbed her wrists, pinning her to the tree. Sango bit her lip. She had never been put in this sort of . . . situation before. She was, for the first time in a long time, helpless. Still struggling, she tried hard to escape his grip, and he shook his head.
"Calm down, iinazuke, this won't hurt. You might even . . . enjoy it."
He twisted his grip on the still-fighting Sango to hold her wrists in one hand, grabbed her chin, and pressed his lips to hers with bruising force. His tongue slipped between her lips and she bit it. He pulled away.
"Dammit!" he swore, checking for blood. Sango picked up hiraikotsu and braced to attack.
"I told you to back off. Leave now," she said coldly. He glared.
"You're as stubborn as ever, Sango. I will break you. You are my fiancée, and you will be coming with me before I leave."
"I believe she told you to leave, sir."
~See the soulless eyes of the target tonight, see the shadow's fate hovering
See the angel's sword lifted over his head, justice in the night, sparkling~
Raidon whirled to see the cold indigo eyes of Miroku. He stood there, peacefully, simply stating a fact. The other man glared.
"Shut up, bouzu, this doesn't concern you."
Miroku stepped forward, unthreatening.
"You are wrong, sir. I am unaware of what has passed between Sango-sama and yourself, but she obviously wants you gone. Please leave us at once."
The man shook his head, and sent a look back at Sango. It was clear; the meaning in the way his eyes dragged over her.
"I will see you tomorrow, iinazuke," he growled around his swelling tongue, and left. Sango collapsed against the tree, and tossed hiraikotsu to the side. Miroku ran to her, kneeling next to her.
"Sango! Are you unhurt?" He asked, putting a hand on her shoulder, she flinched away, and he sighed. She still didn't trust him, it seemed.
His observation proved untrue when she leaned against him, clinging to the front of his robes.
"I feel sick . . ." she muttered into him, and he wrapped his arms around her.
"Oh Sango . . . may I ask what happened?"
She shrank into him, shuddering, and shook her head. She didn't want to think about it. Certainly, she had been kissed before, by other men in her village, but never had any of them forced themselves on her like that. She felt dirty, violated. She should have been able to stop him.
Still unsure of what was bothering her, but not wishing to press the matter, Miroku shifted them and pulled Sango into his lap as he sat against the tree, rocking gently from side to side. He couldn't think of a way to comfort her. So he held her like that, allowing the rhythm of their breathing to calm them both. What had happened between that jerk and her that shook her so badly? It didn't matter, she was all right now. He relished having her so close to him, letting the scent of her, feminine and pure, fill him. Yes, he had found someone he wanted to kiss, he told himself. But not now, he refused to risk ruining this moment that he wanted to hold forever.
Sango breathed in deeply, inhaling Miroku's scent. It tickled a memory at the back of her mind, something sweet and comforting, but she couldn't place it. The feel of his chest rising and falling calmed her, though. She tucked her head under his chin, allowing his warmth and scent to wash through her. This was so nice . . . she almost forgot what had brought her to be so fragile and needing. But she didn't feel as if she had been weak, it was almost as if being so close to Miroku was natural. Having his arms around her, feeling the strength that surrounded her, it was relaxing.
Without knowing it, the two of them reached a pinnacle in their relationship, a place where maybe Sango did trust Miroku a little more than before, and maybe he was just a little less inclined to 'betray' that trust.
As Miroku let himself slip into unconsciousness, he could have sworn he heard Sango mutter, not his title, but his true name. Bu maybe he was already dreaming.
---
Whoa . . . eventful chapter, eh? Yea, Raidon's an ass, but he needs to be that way. It's part of my plot! This update is dedicated to Aamalie, because I said so. And because she likes the fluff I write, the bit at the end is especially for her and nee-chan! Also, we got lucky! I almost lost this entire thing when my dad turned off the circuit breaker JUST before I clicked the save. But we got lucky, and it autosaved right before as well! And credit for the very last line of this goes to Personification of Fluff, who wrote something similar into her story 'Happily Ever After'. So enjoy that little touch of fluff, courtesy of her, and go read it! If you want, read the prequel story "Once Upon a Time'. Wonderful, wonderful Inuyasha/Kagome Sango/Miroku fluff, and then appearances by our beloved Fluffy as well!
Happy Easter all!
Vocab:
Hai: Yes
Nani: What
Gomen (nasai): Sorry
Arigato: Thanks/Thank you
Onegai: Please
Hentai: Pervert
Houshi: Low-level monk
Bouzu: Disrespectful term for low-level monk
Taiji-ya: (Demon) Exterminator
Hiraikotsu: Flying bone (Sango's boomerang)
Hanyou: Half-demon
Youkai: Demon
Miko: Priestess
Ramen: Instant noodles
Kitsune: Fox
Neko: Cat-Demon
Kazaana: Air Void (Miroku's Wind Tunnel)
Shakujo: Miroku's staff with the rings (it has little blades on it, I'm serious)
---
Day Three, Meditation and a Move Forward
Lunch was a nearly silent affair, and Miroku didn't enjoy his thoughts. Sango, married? To a man that she disliked, no less? He couldn't imagine it. Being of a similar type to this Raidon fellow, he couldn't help thinking that Sango would hate every minute of that life. It would be one of dishonor, with her husband taking any woman to his bed that he chose.
'It is not a question of whether he would, though,' he sighed to himself, 'it's a question of whether I would do the same.'
This thought weighed heavily on his mind. Certainly, he had flirted with a great many women, but to actually make love to one was impossible. For one, no woman would bear the child of a monk. They would see it as blasphemy. But to take a wife, and keep her, was no trouble.
Following his beliefs, Miroku would keep his powers and his wife, as well as be able to sire as many children as he liked. Once wed, he would be able to bed any woman who would do such a thing, and there were many. The thought of caring for anyone but Sango had not crossed his mind until now, when she was at stake.
He stood.
"Sango, please excuse me for leaving before we have completed lunch. I have need of meditation, and will be back before nightfall," he said, and bowing, started off in the direction of the nearest waterfall. Upon arriving, he stripped down to his leggings and sat down beneath the pounding water, his shakujo nearby. The incessant beating of the water deafened him to the rest of the world, and the weight, while heavy, was comforting. He began to count his breathing.
'In . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five . . . six . . . seven . . . eight . . . out . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five . . . six . . . seven . . . eight . . . in . . . two . . .'
As soon as the pattern became second nature, which didn't take long, he allowed his mind to wander, keeping part of him focused on his breath. His thoughts began to come to the surface, and he allowed himself to organize them slowly, bit by bit.
First, there were his feelings towards Raidon -- annoyance, for what he did/was doing to Sango. Acceptable, understandable, and well enough as it was, but then there was the nervousness that accompanied the man's presence. Also, this was understandable, because of his connection to Sango.
~As the evening settles, say your prayers, let me kiss you so tenderly
As the moon begins to rise above, I am forced to change drastically...~
Out of the depths of meditation, a memory swam forwards. A tall, slender woman was prominent, her black hair covered by a plain kerchief. A man came up behind her, kneeling to wrap arms around her as she scrubbed the laundry. Both were youthful, and it was obvious that they were lovers, at the very least. But lo, the man was a monk, and from the way he was staring at her she must be his wife. She was quite beautiful, despite the plainness of her clothing, and a smile broke over her face as she turned in his arms to kiss her husband. A small voice piped up.
"Mama?"
The couple broke apart, and looked down at a small child. Indigo eyes stared out from a small face, and his hair was tied in a small ponytail at the base of his neck. He looked at his parents with a curious expression.
"What are you doing?"
A laugh rang out from the woman, and her husband ruffled the boy's hair.
"Oh, Miroku . . ." he sighed, and his wife answered the boy's question.
"We were kissing, sweetheart."
Too young to yet be the hentai he would grow into; the young Miroku looked, puzzled, at his mother, asking her what that was.
"Kami," she laughed. "Otto, would you like to answer this question? He's your son."
"As I remember, you helped," the man countered, but turned to his son. How was he to explain this, without earning a smack from Keiko? She wanted her son's mind to stay pure as long as possible. Starting carefully, he said:
"Kissing . . . is something you do with someone you love. Sometimes, when a man and a woman are in love, they want to be near each other so much that their mouths come together, and their souls speak."
There, that was well done.
"Do you love mama, houshi-sama?"
Keiko turned, her dark eyes glinting mischievously.
"Yes, do you love mama, otto?" she asked, a wicked smile on her face. He answered without missing a beat, because it was the truth.
"With all my heart, I do."
Miroku watched in awe-filled curiosity as his mother turned once more to kiss the monk that was his father. Would he ever find someone he would kiss?
Three days later, he and his father would leave for the temple where Mushin lived, and there they would stay until the man who loved Keiko so died.
In the present, a fully grown Miroku suddenly knew the answer to his young self's question. Yes, he had found someone he wanted to kiss.
~Don't forget the person I am in the day, don't forget the good in my life
Don't forget this ache that I feel in my heart, don't forget my pain and my strife~
Sango, his beautiful, brave, loyal, stubborn, impulsive . . . something in him sighed. He had always respected the taiji-ya, and still did. Enough so, that in the beginning, he did not ask her to bear his child. Somewhere along the line, that respect for Sango had twisted and flowered into love.
He didn't let himself think the word love, not quite. Affection, deep care, maybe even infatuation, but he wouldn't allow himself to love her, not yet. He didn't know why. Maybe it was because she was so . . . amazing. Or was it the feeling that was wild?
Whatever it was, it was so strong, as if it could floor even the greatest warrior. And it had, many a time. The force of the emotion, the lack of a definition, of a way of explaining why, was terrifying and thrilling all at once.
Emotion was one of the things he had been taught to control, but he definitely wasn't in control right now. The capability to keep calm and poised was one he had prided himself on, it was so important. If he lost it now, he'd be hopeless. So there would be control, no matter what.
The idea of Raidon getting to Sango floated across his mind, and he grimaced. The idea of that . . . man having anything to do with her was horrifying. He had known many men like himself over the years that he traveled -- most of them were after woman as possessions instead of people. He, thankfully, had never gotten to that point.
But the aura Raidon seemed to emanate said quite the opposite. Sango would be a trophy wife, and then he would take any number of women to his bed behind her back.
It was a struggle to keep his mind clear, it was so infuriating. Caring for Sango, even as a friend, he could not allow it. Counting his breathing backwards, he slowly rose and dried off, planning to head to camp. It was almost dusk; he had been there a long while.
~Go to sleep and dream of happiness, I will keep you safe in the night
Surrounded by flames of endless white, sinners chased away by the light . . .~
Sango sighed; she had little to do while she waited for Miroku to return. Finally, she settled down to polish her hiraikotsu. She frowned a little as she ran her fingers over an old split. Totosai had fixed it for her, and done a fine job of it. Unfortunately, there would always be a small scar. But it flew better now than ever, she had to admit, even though it had been a long, long time.
There was a noise behind her, and she stood, gripping the weapon in such a way that she could attack if necessary.
"Still the best, I see," a voice drawled. She didn't relax, but put down hiraikotsu. Raidon walked out.
"Hello, Sango. Where is your houshi?" he said, smiling pleasantly. The smile didn't reach his eyes, though. She balked slightly at his use of the phrase 'your houshi'.
"Houshi-sama has gone to meditate," she told him truthfully, "He said he would be back before nightfall."
The man nodded, obviously thinking to himself. He sat down, and motioned for Sango to join him.
"To tell you the truth, I am glad the monk is gone. I don't like the looks of him. Also, I wanted to speak to you."
Still standing, the taiji-ya nodded.
"Speak," she sighed.
"You've grown up, Sango. You're not the same girl who fought at the village. When I heard your entire clan had been annihilated, I began a search for you. The graves certainly seemed to say someone had been there. I followed rumors of a demon-huntress that carried a flying bone, and traveled with strange company. It seemed to be you, but I had to know for certain. And now, here you are, my soon-to-be wife, alive and well."
Sango winced. Would she still marry Raidon? His charm and story were lost on her, she didn't care. To become part of a village again . . . to live as a taiji-ya, could she do that? Could she leave Miroku, Kagome, Inuyasha, and Shippo to marry this man she hated? Her father and Kohaku had wanted her to.
This stopped her. Her family . . . friends . . . everyone. They had all been happy to see her married – at least, those that weren't female. They had wanted this match for her. To do this would be to fulfill her father's wishes. It was what he had wanted . . .
Raidon stood, and moved toward her.
"Look at you," he said, his eyes discomforting. "You've grown so beautiful. Certainly by now you've been claimed, what am I talking about?"
She shook her head.
"No, I'm not . . . claimed," she whispered. For a moment, Miroku's face flickered in her mind. What would he say, to see this conversation. For some reason, she felt guilty. The hunter before her smirked.
"Really? That's . . . surprising," he said, moving closer. He was less than a few inches away now, his eyes hovering over her face. "I would have thought I was too late. Even that monk of yours would have noticed you."
Miroku? Yea, as a warm body, maybe. Raidon's closeness was awkward, and she backed up a little. He moved forward again, and she frowned.
"What are you doing?"
He ignored her question, moving closer still, until Sango was up against a tree. She braced her hands against his shoulders and pushed, but he set himself in an old position she recognized, turning one foot out and grounding himself. There would be no moving him, and she sighed.
"I advise you to back off, Raidon."
"Don't fuss, Sango," he smiled. "I just want a taste . . ."
Her face drained to a wan color, she bragged his hip and shoulder and pushed, to no effect. She tried to strike at him, and he grabbed her wrists, pinning her to the tree. Sango bit her lip. She had never been put in this sort of . . . situation before. She was, for the first time in a long time, helpless. Still struggling, she tried hard to escape his grip, and he shook his head.
"Calm down, iinazuke, this won't hurt. You might even . . . enjoy it."
He twisted his grip on the still-fighting Sango to hold her wrists in one hand, grabbed her chin, and pressed his lips to hers with bruising force. His tongue slipped between her lips and she bit it. He pulled away.
"Dammit!" he swore, checking for blood. Sango picked up hiraikotsu and braced to attack.
"I told you to back off. Leave now," she said coldly. He glared.
"You're as stubborn as ever, Sango. I will break you. You are my fiancée, and you will be coming with me before I leave."
"I believe she told you to leave, sir."
~See the soulless eyes of the target tonight, see the shadow's fate hovering
See the angel's sword lifted over his head, justice in the night, sparkling~
Raidon whirled to see the cold indigo eyes of Miroku. He stood there, peacefully, simply stating a fact. The other man glared.
"Shut up, bouzu, this doesn't concern you."
Miroku stepped forward, unthreatening.
"You are wrong, sir. I am unaware of what has passed between Sango-sama and yourself, but she obviously wants you gone. Please leave us at once."
The man shook his head, and sent a look back at Sango. It was clear; the meaning in the way his eyes dragged over her.
"I will see you tomorrow, iinazuke," he growled around his swelling tongue, and left. Sango collapsed against the tree, and tossed hiraikotsu to the side. Miroku ran to her, kneeling next to her.
"Sango! Are you unhurt?" He asked, putting a hand on her shoulder, she flinched away, and he sighed. She still didn't trust him, it seemed.
His observation proved untrue when she leaned against him, clinging to the front of his robes.
"I feel sick . . ." she muttered into him, and he wrapped his arms around her.
"Oh Sango . . . may I ask what happened?"
She shrank into him, shuddering, and shook her head. She didn't want to think about it. Certainly, she had been kissed before, by other men in her village, but never had any of them forced themselves on her like that. She felt dirty, violated. She should have been able to stop him.
Still unsure of what was bothering her, but not wishing to press the matter, Miroku shifted them and pulled Sango into his lap as he sat against the tree, rocking gently from side to side. He couldn't think of a way to comfort her. So he held her like that, allowing the rhythm of their breathing to calm them both. What had happened between that jerk and her that shook her so badly? It didn't matter, she was all right now. He relished having her so close to him, letting the scent of her, feminine and pure, fill him. Yes, he had found someone he wanted to kiss, he told himself. But not now, he refused to risk ruining this moment that he wanted to hold forever.
Sango breathed in deeply, inhaling Miroku's scent. It tickled a memory at the back of her mind, something sweet and comforting, but she couldn't place it. The feel of his chest rising and falling calmed her, though. She tucked her head under his chin, allowing his warmth and scent to wash through her. This was so nice . . . she almost forgot what had brought her to be so fragile and needing. But she didn't feel as if she had been weak, it was almost as if being so close to Miroku was natural. Having his arms around her, feeling the strength that surrounded her, it was relaxing.
Without knowing it, the two of them reached a pinnacle in their relationship, a place where maybe Sango did trust Miroku a little more than before, and maybe he was just a little less inclined to 'betray' that trust.
As Miroku let himself slip into unconsciousness, he could have sworn he heard Sango mutter, not his title, but his true name. Bu maybe he was already dreaming.
---
Whoa . . . eventful chapter, eh? Yea, Raidon's an ass, but he needs to be that way. It's part of my plot! This update is dedicated to Aamalie, because I said so. And because she likes the fluff I write, the bit at the end is especially for her and nee-chan! Also, we got lucky! I almost lost this entire thing when my dad turned off the circuit breaker JUST before I clicked the save. But we got lucky, and it autosaved right before as well! And credit for the very last line of this goes to Personification of Fluff, who wrote something similar into her story 'Happily Ever After'. So enjoy that little touch of fluff, courtesy of her, and go read it! If you want, read the prequel story "Once Upon a Time'. Wonderful, wonderful Inuyasha/Kagome Sango/Miroku fluff, and then appearances by our beloved Fluffy as well!
Happy Easter all!
Vocab:
Hai: Yes
Nani: What
Gomen (nasai): Sorry
Arigato: Thanks/Thank you
Onegai: Please
Hentai: Pervert
Houshi: Low-level monk
Bouzu: Disrespectful term for low-level monk
Taiji-ya: (Demon) Exterminator
Hiraikotsu: Flying bone (Sango's boomerang)
Hanyou: Half-demon
Youkai: Demon
Miko: Priestess
Ramen: Instant noodles
Kitsune: Fox
Neko: Cat-Demon
Kazaana: Air Void (Miroku's Wind Tunnel)
Shakujo: Miroku's staff with the rings (it has little blades on it, I'm serious)