Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to the anime/manga of Inuyasha.
Painted
IV. Double- Sided Mirror
-
This time, where are you Houston?
Is somebody out there, will somebody listen?
-
August 1945
There was something deep inside of him that expected to see the ceiling inside the temple, smell the incense in the air, and hear the low chants of the morning meditation. When he awoke, he experienced none of those things. The room was an unfamiliar one, as well as the slight ache in his back that came with lying on the floor. Secondly, there was something warm that weighted on his right arm.
The surreal events of yesterday came to light in his mind and he quickly remembered. His temple was gone and he had stumbled upon Sango, a girl he thought he'd seen the last of four years ago. He looked down at her serene and coloured face, the paint still smudged around her lips, and the thin blanket wrapped around them.
For a dreaded moment he jumped to the conclusion that he may have taken advantage of her, but the conversation prior surfaced in his mind. 'It can't be that she stayed with me of her own accord,' he thought in surprise. 'I gave her a chance...Why did she...'
If he had been awake, would she still have made that choice? Sure she was beautiful, it was expected of her to please him, he was a man, one she thought was expecting her advance.
Surely she didn't put it past him to have his way with her?
His thoughts were interrupted by a soft murmuring beside him. "What are you going to do to me?" she breathed in a fearful voice. "Please, not again." She began rocking back and forth, her eyes still closed but her brows knit together.
"Sango," Miroku coaxed, trying to wake her. She had rolled into him and buried her face in the front of his robes. "Don't let him hurt me," she begged, muffled by the fabric pressed onto her face.
He stroked her hair gently. "Wake up Sango. I'm not going to hurt you."
Her body stilled for a moment, then he saw her face staring up at him with wide eyes. There were beige patches on her face where paint had rubbed off.
"Miroku-sama!" she exclaimed. "Oh no, I'm so sorry, I dirtied your robes," she apologized, beginning to turn red. She wriggled out of his arms and hugged herself when she was out of his reach.
"Sango, why did you-" he tried to find the right words. "You should have slept on the bed."
She looked away and did not respond.
"Did you feel an obligation?"
"Are you going to tell Naraku?" she burst out instead. "I shouldn't have let you..."
He frowned. "Why would I even think of doing that Sango? I said I wanted to help you."
Her face contorted into a confused expression as though she had forgotten. "Oh."
"Don't you remember?"
She sighed. "Of course I do Miroku-sama. It's just that...that-"
"You don't think I can," he finished.
"I'm sorry," she repeated. "But... I've lived like this for so long, and I've hoped for so long...it seems so unbelievable that this might be my chance at freedom. To see my family again...Kohaku..."
"You will see them," Miroku assured her. "Enough people lost their families during the war. You don't have to be another one."
"I don't even know myself if they're even still alive..." Sango brought up. "And the troops...the Allied troops...aren't they going to occupy Japan for a while? Naraku was saying something about it a few days ago."
"I don't know what to think about that," Miroku said. "I don't know what to think about anything. What is the world coming to, that's what I want to know."
"Your temple," Sango said suddenly. "Are you ...angry at the people who did that?" she asked. "I know that I really... I just hate Naraku for doing this to me."
Miroku sighed. "I should be lenient. I was to be a holy man. That's what I try to believe. But really, they ruined all chances of that. In fact, it seems like one big dream."
"There has to be another temple around I'm sure you can join," Sango insisted.
"I don't know if they already got to it."
Sango fiddled with her hair. "I just don't understand why..."
Miroku smiled a weak half-smile. "Neither do I. It's the same as asking why a beautiful girl like you is forced to sell her body for profits she will never see."
She looked at him with raw sorrow in her eyes, and it was more evident than ever in her face how much physical and emotional pain she'd been put through.
"Actually, I really didn't think I'd be a good monk anyway," he said, giving her a rueful smile.
"Why is that?"
He winked at her. "I like women too much."
She blinked. "If that is so...than why?"
"My father was going to be a monk, but he instead met my mother and they had me. I thought I should follow his same previous path in respect for his memory."
She shook her head. "No, not that." Her deep brown eyes seemed to pierce through him. "I meant." Her voice lowered. "Why didn't you accept me last night?"
Miroku forced his face into the most sincere expression he could muster. "Sango, I am not that kind of man-"
"Surely if you liked women, you just said -"
"I like women," he stated. "That much is true of me. However, that does not change the fact I studied to be a monk, and I know what is right and what is wrong."
Sango looked as though he was speaking another language.
"And it is wrong to allow you to perform non-consensual sexual acts with me. Even though you tried to mask your feelings, I knew that it wasn't something you wanted to do willingly."
"So if a beautiful woman threw herself at you like I did, you wouldn't respond?"
"A beautiful woman did throw herself at me last night," he clarified, much to Sango's embarrassment. "And I did respond, at first."
His voice took on a gentler tone. "But Sango, the way you kissed me, it was as though it was rehearsed, a routine."
Her expression turned dark. "And if it was?"
"A girl as beautiful as you doesn't deserve to perform acts of love as though they are merely parts of a play." Now his eyes seemed to bore a hole through her head. "Not to mention the fact that we had just met, you were ordered to attend to me, and throughout the entire time we were together it seemed like you were dreading something."
"But what does it matter if it's rehearsed or not," she argued. "It's all the same. They all want the same thing. What they want, what they pay for. That's all that matters. It doesn't matter who I am, who they are!"
"You deserve something real."
He hoped that he didn't imagine her eyes soften.
"I think we both do."
--
To be honest, Miroku had admitted to himself that deep within he had only been able to contain himself by luck. He, who had lived in a monastery since fourteen, had never experienced women. Sure, he saw them from time to time, dreamed about them, asked Mushin about them, but meeting Sango, a girl as beautiful and mysterious as the rising sun itself only reanimated those forcefully buried thoughts.
She challenged any previous stereotype he had about the fairer sex.
That night when she had forced her lips on his, it had took everything he had to push her away and not bring her closer. It was the sudden action, the shock that accompanied it, and his cultivated rational mind that had prevented him from pursuing his curiosities. He was glad for that, after having the chance to speak to her, but the thought that haunted him was what he would've done if he had not apprehended himself.
If he hadn't hesitated, and noticed her mechanical movements...he'd be like the rest of the men she had encountered, and the thought scared him.
Her proximity enticed him and he longed to no longer be curious every time he observed her delicate and slim figure. But she was a girl who had been touched and badly handled for four years of her life, and the side of him that held his morals close sincerely wanted to put helping her first.
There was something special about her. A girl he hardly knew, a whore nonetheless, was the last thing left in his life.
Did he really want to compromise that?
--
Whenever he could, he liked to "purchase" Sango for the night and relieve her of any further horrible experiences. Unfortunately, that wasn't very often, and when Naraku noticed Miroku's consistent preference of Sango he started to ask for higher fees instead of the little money he received from alms.
He ate by either stealing, or blessing people's homes. The latter occurred only rarely, as the nationalist message spread and people demanded Shinto priests instead. The former was becoming increasingly dangerous as well. Allied troops had begun to be stationed in Japan, and he knew that if he were to be caught...he didn't want to think about it.
He always looked forward to the rare days that he had enough to see Sango. At first he had wanted to meet her in secret, but she refused, partly because there was no way or time, and partly because she feared for his safety.
Miroku liked to think that Sango kept him somewhat sane. When they were together, he didn't dwell on thoughts of his pitiful life, and instead he liked to listen to her speak. She rarely smiled a real smile. That is, one not borne of sarcasm or force. When he coaxed her, she could talk for hours, of her family, her brother Kohaku, things she'd like to do. Or they would lapse into a companionable silence just relishing the fact that there was someone there.
He knew that she didn't believe he could really do anything to help. Whenever the topic arose, she would regress into her shy, guarded state and say that was just happy he would come to see her, whilst looking towards the wall.
The truth is, he also knew he was only one man, and Naraku seemed to be a person of great resource. However, Sango was a fragment of his past and he was determined to help her, rather than help himself. He would pour all of his focus into her, not knowing why. Something in the back of his head told him it was because he didn't care about himself anymore, that it would help him forget, but he brushed those accusing thoughts away.
She wondered at first why he wasn't more upset about his situation. In addition, she wished he would talk about it to her. Sango, of all people, knew loneliness, and from that knowledge, she knew that if he didn't confront his loss, it would overcome him.
And so she tried to get him to open up to her, as she did for him. He always seemed genuinely interested in learning about her, and he had a way with persuasion that she always ended up telling him a story from the village even when she had began the conversation by asking him how he was feeling today.
On the occasions that she was able to convince him to share some of himself with her, he did it with such a formal neutrality or offhandedness that she had to remind herself that she was in the room still.
Their conversations. They ranged from the most mundane of things to topics that pulled tightly at their heartstrings, though if they did, Miroku rarely let it show. When apart, they were compelled to analyse them in order to break down the other's character.
He had hoped that by spending their time talking, he would be able to restrain himself. In fact, this only made it worse. Hearing, learning so much about her only fuelled his curiosity, and it was all he could do to grip onto his forearms and laugh about something silly a young Kohaku had done.
--
Today was one of those wonderful days he was able to acquire Sango. Naraku had been in a particularly good mood as of late, for reasons unknown, and let him have her for a lesser price.
However, as soon as she had begun to lead him away he noticed her expression was sombre. They took their usual position, sitting on opposite sides of the room.
"Is something wrong?" he inquired. She slammed her fist into the ground. "No. Yes. Naraku's sending me away."
His brow furrowed in confusion. "Sending you away? Isn't that a good thing?"
Sango shook her head profusely. "Instead of having me work normally, he wants to send me into the city with a few of the others."
"Why the hell would he do that?" Miroku asked. She shook her head again. "I have no idea. The government's in ruins. Maybe he thinks we won't get into trouble, even if we're caught."
"I've been to the city," Miroku recalled. "There are soldiers posted there."
She looked up at him hopefully. "Do you think they would help me if they knew?"
He thought about this. "There's a good chance. After all, they're here to keep order right?"
"You sound unsure," Sango pointed out. "Maybe I shouldn't..."
"Do it," Miroku decided firmly. "We need to try every possible way."
"You're right," she agreed. "I will."
They had fallen into silence,.
"Sango," he said in a quiet voice. "It's late to say this, but..." He swallowed. "I'm sorry I can't do more for you."
Sango stifled a yawn. "You do a lot. Too much. In fact, having you here right now is enough."
She was glad he couldn't see her blush under the white makeup.
"Are you tired?" she asked quickly, seeing as he was looking at her strangely. "Shall we sleep?"
"Not just yet," he said quietly. "You go to sleep if you're tired."
"Good night Miroku -sama," she said with a yawn. "And thank you, again." She let her head fall to the side.
Miroku looked at her for a moment and tilted his own head back. He closed his eyes and tried to drown out the noises in the next room, but to no avail.
--
He awoke the next morning as usual, to the sight of Sango waiting for him patiently to escort him out, smoothing her kimono as he rose from his place. She led him down the corridor to Naraku, bowed politely to him, and walked quickly back in the direction they had come.
Naraku watched her go , and then regarded Miroku. "You seem to be awfully fond of her," he commented thoughtfully. "I guess I am, " Miroku responded, pressing the notes into Naraku's hand. He too, then left through the open door, oblivious to Naraku's suspicious gaze.
"Kanna," he said suddenly. The pale girl rose. "Tell Izumi, Ren, and the others that they are to be ready to depart tomorrow evening." She left the room with a single, slow nod.
--
The next morning Sango found herself in the back of a wagon with a few others, including Kagome, who was currently squeezed in next to her. Although Naraku had not physically come along with them, he had sent Kanna in his place, along with a warning that they would all be accounted for, or else there would be dire consequences.
It was dark, and only a few lamps lit the moderately busy streets of downtown Kyoto. Kanna led them through some side streets until they reached a stretch of road that was still busy even at the late hour. The red light district.
"I don't get it," Kagome whispered. "What are we supposed to do?"
Sango glanced over at Kanna, perched against the side of a building staring at the group of them eerily.
Eventually, a few of the cars and buggies began to stop and pick up the girls, one by one. There was one figure, however, who lurked on the other side of the road. They couldn't tell if he was watching them or not.
"Sango," Kagome whispered again. "I don't understand this. I don't want to not know where I'm being taken. How will I get back?"
Sango had no answer to that, and so she didn't say anything.
Soon, there were only a few girls left standing at the side of the street. Some returned, passing clips of bills to Kanna as they returned to where they stood.
They were beginning to think that activity had finally slowed down at the late hour when something caught Kagome's attention. "Hey," Kagome perked up. "The statue's moving."
Sure enough, the lone figure across the street had begun to cross during the downtime. He kept his head low, but long hair swinging by his back was clearly visible by the long shadows cast.
"You," he said gruffly, half-obscured by shadow. "Y-yes?" Kagome stuttered. "Are you looking for company tonight?"
He seemed to almost roll his eyes. "Something like that," the male responded. Kagome blanched. "Don't worry," Sango nudged her. "If anything, just run for it." The man held her by the wrist and pulled her along, Sango watching after her until they disappeared behind a building.
A few more uneventful minutes passed before Sango's ears detected footsteps on the gravel. It sounded like a small group of people, speaking a language in words that she didn't understand.
As they walked along the road and came into view, Sango immediately leaned forward in the dim light to get a closer look, ignoring the other girls who had sunk into the shadows. They seemed very tall even from a distance, compared to Sango's small frame.
One of them said something in the strange language and they all laughed. They wore similar outfits, green or grey - she couldn't tell. Large backpacks adorned their backs and the protruding barrel of a gun was noticed just above their soldiers.
Suddenly, one of them stopped, signalling to the others. He turned in Sango's direction. She froze. He was looking right at her, it was useless to try and hide now. The group was now walking towards her, shouting and waving their arms as a signal to show herself.
As they approached, she observed that there were three men, all foreign, with large eyes. Any other detail was hard to notice due to the lack of light. She could make out silver tags around their necks glinting if they turned in certain angles. Two were smoking cigarettes, the burning orange tips and wisps of smoke visible in the dark
The man at the front was now nearly eye to eye with her. He looked back at the other men and spoke, motioning for them to come closer. He dragged a finger across her cheek, leaving a beige smudge visible on her face. He turned again, showing the rubbed off paint stain on his hand to them. They laughed.
He leaned, if possible even closer, and began to speak very slowly. She couldn't understand a word. He seized her arm and pulled her out onto the road, where his group quickly surrounded her. He seemed to repeat the same words, but to no avail, she still did not understand.
She wanted to ask them to help her, to tell her that she was Sango, and she wanted to get herself and the others away from Naraku. But her thoughts drifted to where Kanna was surely watching the events take place.
Their hands were absently toying with their weapons, and that small adrenaline rush urged her on. She began to speak. "My name," she said pointing to herself, " is Emi Izumi." They looked around at each other, somewhat confused. "I can offer you company?" she tried. Maybe she could get them to go somewhere with her and ask for help then.
They started to speak again to her, still in a tongue she could not comprehend. Sango grew fearful again, her eyes darting to where one man was taking out handcuffs, to another, brandishing a baton like a weapon.
She held out her hands in a yield signal and instead brought them to the tie of her kimono. With trembling hands, she withdrew the obi, and fell on her knees, letting the layers of heavy robe fall over her shoulders. She bowed.
The men's eyebrows raised and they looked to each other. They continued speaking their strange language and one of them hoisted her to her feet. One latched onto her arm, pulling her along. She was now venturing into the unknown.
--
Miroku had spent the evening searching the cities of Kyoto for a home with residents that had not yet retired and would chance letting him in, and was so far unsuccessful, as he expected. He was just about to begin to find a tree to lean against and sleep, but was distracted by the drunken laughter of men and the stuttering of a young girl in Japanese.
Drawn to the sound, he scanned the buildings for the source. As he passed under a window of the inn, the disturbance was distinctly louder. Pausing, he stood on the balls of his feet to peer into the house window. He heard the whimpers of a girl and the laughter of men. His sight was obscured by a partially sheer curtain and a folding screen but the sounds betrayed no less, and the silhouette of bodies left nothing to the imagination.
He sank down under the windowsill, taking deep, slow, breaths, cringing when he inhaled cigarette smoke and the scent of liquor. His fists dug deep into the ground and it was all he could do to keep from cursing.
That's when it hit him. Everything rushed past him, forming a jagged, rusty chainsaw that tore his soul in half. Everyone he ever knew was dead, and the one person he devoted his partial life to was nothing but a selfless whore. Here he was, holding back from her, giving his all to help her, while she lay with men for money.
All that he knew, but had always been afraid to admit to himself. Could it be that he devoted himself to a glorified perspective of Sango? One that just wanted to be go home, be with loved ones, and forget everything that had transpired since she was thirteen?
He was so filled with agony and realization about everything, that he felt he needed to cut his gut open to release the tension. Images and thoughts blurred together, and it was hard to sort out any thoughts or feelings. Everything he saw was red.
If it was so easy, why not him? Why refuse? He was no fucking holy man anymore, it didn't matter if he went against his values. Who would care? There was no one to reprimand him. He grasped on to the idea that he could make something of himself by helping her. That was rich. There was nothing he could do. He was forsaken, and his life meant nothing. If every man but him was to have her...it didn't matter what became of him anymore. He had nothing...why not her?
He edged around to the side of the house where it appeared that the men were leaving. One clapped another on the shoulders while another laughed. Miroku frowned. As a monk, he had studied english.
"Shit, I was so uptight before, but that sure relieved me," one commented. One near the back spoke up. "Hey, what'd she say her name was again?"
The man being spoken to shrugged. "I dunno. I think I heard her say 'gee-sha' once or twice. But I couldn't understand a word. Maybe that's her name?"
"Who cares what her name is?" another laughed, tossing his long barrelled gun from side to side. "All I gotta say is that there are some damn good whores here."
"Damn straight," someone replied. "And zip up your pants, idiot."
They were soon disappearing over the path, and as the helmet of the tallest soldier dipped below the horizon, silence filled the air again.
Miroku moved to the front of the inn and pushed open the door. It was virtually deserted from what he saw. Perhaps the soldiers had scared the keepers away. It didn't matter if they had been there either, he probably would still have barged in. Reason seemed to have left him at this particular moment in time.
He navigated through the hall until he head scuffling behind one of the doors, which he promptly slid open. His eyes travelled around the room, taking in the scent of drinks, a few empty bottles littering the floor, and the mess of sheets and pillows, before fixing the figure huddled on the ground.
Sango was kneeling on the floor, naked to the waist, trying to hurriedly gather a multitude of foreign money scattered on the floor. Her hands trembled and the coins slipped through her fingers.
She looked up as he shut the door soundly behind him. "Miroku-sama!" she exclaimed, flushing as she quickly wrapped her clothing about her. He continued to stare, and Sango began to grow uneasy. Something wasn't right. His eyes. They were unreadable.
"Miroku-sama," she said cautiously, approaching him, now fully clothed. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"
His hand reached out to rest on her shoulder, moving slightly to feel the contour of her neck and collarbone. He duly noted that most of the white on her face was rubbed at roughly, and the red on her lips smudged.
"Is this what happens when someone asks for help these days?"
"Miroku-sama," she asked quietly, biting her lip. "What are you doing?" He pushed the fabric off her shoulder and it gathered in the joint of her elbow. She quickly brought her arms up to cover herself.
"What's gotten into you?" she burst, moving out of his reach. He still said nothing, though his lips parted slightly.
She eyed him warily, unsure of what to do. Without warning, he lunged forward and encircled her in his arms.
Her breath caught as he held her there. But as his hands began to roam, she squirmed. "I am just a man," he whispered into her ear. "And I have nothing, nothing but you. You're a whore."
She tried to push away from him "I saw Sango. And I couldn't do a fucking thing. Not one. I'm sorry."
"So?" so argued, still pushing at him. "It's not your fault. It's not my choice."
"Yes, it was," he interrupted. "You went - you did those things." He lowered his lips to her neck.
He was scaring her. It was as though something had possessed him. And his voice, as he whispered in her ear, was almost feral in nature.
Her knees quavered as his mouth caressed her collarbone, and travelled back to her lips. "Miroku-sama," she protested. ""Stop-" His lips were in the way. He kissed her greedily, and when he opened his eyes, they were full of lust and confusion.
"Sango," he breathed. "Tonight-"
"No!" she responded automatically. "No!"
He tried to pry her hands away from where she covered herself. "No, stop it!" she fumed, wrenching her arm away and moving away from him, picking up a bottle and shaking it at him, though her hands were shaking.
"Miroku-sama, I-" she sifted through the words. "I thought you were different. To- to think that I trusted you. I believed in you, that you really wanted to help me."
'That you really wanted to know me.'
She stepped around him cautiously. "You're just like the others...just like them," she spat, then turned on her heels and ran into the dimly lighted streets, the bottle breaking into pieces as she dropped it.
He slumped onto the floor and clawed his fingers into his eyes. "What the hell just happened?" he groaned into his hands. He looked around him and saw the coins and notes still scattered about the room.
'I just became what I wanted to take you away from.'
--
Her footsteps made barely any noise as she ran barefoot across the city, obi trailing on the ground and clutching her wooden clogs. She had passed the same building for the third time when she came to the intersection the girls had been standing. Upon coming closer, she saw Kagome leaning against a lamppost, but she seemed to be in deep thought.
Sango was about to call to her when another figure materialized behind her. She whirled around to come face to face with Kanna, still calm and emotionless, however slightly tight-lipped. "Emi Izumi...what happened?"
"Those...those soldiers. They took me," Sango explained. "I assume you did them service?" she asked. Sango nodded profusely. "Very well," Kanna concluded. She studied Sango a moment longer. "I saw someone else enter after the soldiers exited." Sango blanched. "You followed?" She detected a slight glare on the pale girl's face. "Do not question me."
"Did you do him service?" she continued. "Yes, yes," Sango answered quickly. "Of course."
Kanna simply held out her outstretched palm. "Where is the pay," she said quietly.
Sango cringed inwardly. 'Shit...the money,' she thought in dismay.
"Well..." Kanna pressed on. "I forgot it," Sango said.
"Then you will go get it," Kanna declared. "The transport will be here soon. You will go on ahead and we will meet you." With that, she moved to question the others.
As she walked back to the hotel, she did so with no such urgency as before. Everyone within a ten-foot radius had fled when they saw the soldiers.
Eventually she found her thoughts leading back to Miroku. Her fists clenched instantly. 'He was just like the rest of them,' she thought angrily. ' I-I actually thought he was different.' She bit her lip forcefully. 'Why?' she pondered. 'Is it just because he only wished to violate me? That's why he spent time with me? Then how is he different?'
'Because you thought the world of him?'
'Because he became your friend?'
'Because a part of you wanted to escape for him as well?'
She didn't know.
She closed her eyes for a moment. 'Maybe it's because he saw me first as Sango, and not a whore...it doesn't matter. I had a distorted view of him.'
Seeing the familiar hotel stretch as she trekked up a hill, she found the previously occupied room and threw the door open. Her mouth fell open.
It was clean, spotless even. Tables and chairs arranged neatly, cushions placed in their proper positions.
However, there was something notable missing.
The money.
A knife seemed to stab her in the back as she remembered who she left it behind with.
Painted: Double-Sided Mirror - July 14th 2004
Man, that is long. I wrote this while on vacation and it spans about twenty notebook pages in my large, chicken scratch handwriting, not counting what I added in the second draft. I apologize for the way I'm butchering Miroku's character here. I swear I don't even know who he is anymore. The thing I feel I failed to get across was why he did what he did. There. Got that off my chest. I also advance-apologize for any spelling/grammar. I usually check my work about three to four times before posting, but tt's about 4 am as I'm posting this and I just wanted to put out the latest chapter after many delays.
Katrina5 - Thank you very much for the review, I was very nervous about the last chapter, and I am about this one too. I think I should just label this story OOC altogether.
Sangowindwarrior - Thank you, I'm glad you're enjoying it! (for now)
LiLpsYchO - Well, the rating's been bothering me too, since the story doesn't appear on the main Inuyasha page, I think, but I don't want to get in trouble for being misrated and get my account closed, so I'm playing it extra safe. Thank you for your praise, I never handle that well, but I'm inspired to keep on writing as long as I receive words like that once in a while.
Aamalie - Truthfully, seeing how well Queenizzay and your fic is coming along makes me want to give up on this once and for all. By the way, I need to go and review it, so expect eight more reviews soon. Thank you for the encouraging words, though I'm not sure what transpired here is so...believable. But I know you'll tell me what to work on, right? Thank you for another great review.
Vilja - I think I should seriously ask you to beta my work for me, heaven knows I need it. Your reviews are always so honest and they compel me to do something about my mistakes. I'm actually kind of anxious for your review this time around. Thank you as always for your review, they always help.
animefreak808 - I like songs! Feel free to sing to me anytime. And review too!
Tache - Thank you for the review!
Lady Sango 7 - Thank you for another wonderful review, every single one really inspires me. And a fan-art! The first one EVER! It's a milestone! This is the typical "bad stuff" chapter, and I'm kind of nervous it won't be well-received. I look forward to your review and any other nice stuff you do or say to me. It's that kind of stuff that makes writing enjoyable for me. Thank you for that.
ghettotrampoline - Thanks for the support! I did have some fun on my vacation, as much as you can have with your mom and your great aunt and uncle.
faltering - From what I know (and that's not much) the war was about the time when Shintoism started. Where I read that, I can't remember. I wouldn't trust my fics too much with being credible, but I know it happened somewhere. I'll try to find it for you! Thank you for your encouragement and kind words.
Fireblade K'Chona - I hope this chapter is long enough for you, it was really long for me. I need to get some rest, wake up and get to work on the next chapter. I'm really behind schedule! Thank you for your support and thank you for reading!
As always, I thank all the reviewers for their continuing support and love in general. You keep me going.