I don't own either Sango or Miroku (but I want to own him so very badly) or any other recognizable character you read about in here. Rumiko Takahashi does...
Sniff, so sad! Oo; don't hate me please!
When Tomorrow Starts Without You
By: ShenYue
E-mail: Preventer_02@hotmail.com
Chapter three: Memories Lost, Life Not Forgotten
A stifled cry echoed through the trees and rang as clear as day in Sango's ears making her dizzy with fear.
"Houshi-sama!" She cried, running now, branches whipping at her face and making her cheeks bleed. "Hang on! I'm coming!" She pushed herself faster and faster until she broke out of the trees next to the river, almost falling in herself. Frantically she looked around and jumped when Kirara's soft mewling cry snapped her head around to the left. There, leaning against a tree and illuminated by the ghastly starlight, was Miroku. Blood ran in gouts between his lips and his neck hung at an odd angle. Another mew made the taiji-ya sink to her knees. Kirara was carefully nuzzling his still warm right hand, unmoving and even now damp from his bath, blood staining the pristine fur of the fire-cat's muzzle. "Houshi-sama..." choking on her own tears Sango crawled over to the dead priest noticing his eyes were wide and staring, open and blank. Collapsing against him in sobs that racked her body she gently closed them and embraced Miroku roughly, wishing he would wake up and hug her back, to brush her tears away and tell her everything was all right, to stand up and walk with her, hand in hand, back to the camp to sit beside the fire. To open his beautiful violet eyes, full of life and caring, and tell her he was glad she was here. "Houshi-sama..." she hiccupped, tears coming faster, "Miroku-sama..." Kirara cried with her, silently in the youkai's own way as Sango hugged him tighter, gripping the purple kesa now soaked red by his blood with slender, shaking fingers. "Miroku..."
She didn't know how long she had sat there, crying until she could cry no more, sobbing until it hurt, but when she finally sat back and turned around she noticed the snow-white feather in the grass and hatred flared making her want for revenge even more now that she knew the culprit. Naraku had taken everything from her now...and he would pay.
But first the others had to know. They would bury him together and pray for him together and miss him together. Sango still had part of her family left, she would go to them for comfort and then with them she would complete her comfort, the death of Naraku would be her final solace even if it cost her own life to attain it.
"Kirara..." the fire-cat transformed and helped Sango lift Miroku gently onto her broad back. They walked slowly.
"I think you should go look for them." Kagome said quietly, holding Shippo in her arms. "They've been gone a long time." The kitsune rolled off her lap and woke upon hitting the ground, sleepy green eyes searching for Kirara to lay against.
"Where's Kirara?" He voiced, yawning sleepily.
"With Sango-chan and Miroku-sama..." this perked Shippo's interest and woke him right up.
"Really? What are they up to?" He mused staring slyly at Inuyasha who looked back defiantly. "Seems Miroku got some nerve, huh?" He smiled broadly at Kagome who blushed and looked back at Inuyasha. "Unlike a certain, white-haired hanyou I know...Ahhhhh!" He shrieked when that certain "white-haired hanyou" decided to come roaring after him from across the fire. "Sorry, sorry! I'll never say it-eh?" He stopped, as did Inuyasha, when he caught a trace of something that made his ears curl.
"Miroku." Inuyasha whispered golden eyes going wide, "Miroku is..."
"What is it?" Kagome asked frantically as tears began to roll down Shippo's cherubic face.
"Miroku!" The little kitsune cried, tearing into the woods and running into Kirara just as the sorry pair came out of thick trees. Quick as a flash Shippo was on the furry back and shaking the still form. "Miroku! Wake up!" He sobbed into the kesa, "Miroku...please...wake up..."
"Sango-chan...what happened?" Kagome felt tears rolling down her own cheeks as she recognized the unmoving body of her friend.
"Kagome-chan!" Sango broke down again and sank to her knees, weeping at the sky. Only Inuyasha remained dry-eyed that night, to comfort Kagome and the others...but it was close.
The burial rites had been preformed to the best of Kagome's ability, the proper words soft spoken between wrenching sobs. They had all known he would die early, but none of them thought he would die like this with all the unhidden and blatant evidence pointing straight at Kagura. They thought the curse would take him from them and even then, that they would defeat Naraku before that. But fate, apparently, would not be so kind.
Placing a single flower atop the fresh mound of earth Sango picked up her Hiraikotsu and slung it halfheartedly over her shoulder, narrowly missing the youkai that perched there nosing the strands of loose hair, hoping to comfort the mourning taiji-ya. She paused, turning back around to cast her eyes upon the shakujou lying upon the grave, and leaned over again to touch it lightly with a finger and make it chime. Now the once blissful sound seemed dead.
"Sango-chan?" Kagome sniffled, thoroughly worried about her companion that had taken the houshi's death the hardest. She was even more worried, not to mention surprised, when Sango snatched the staff up in one hand and turned around with a glowing smile on her face.
"Houshi-sama would not want us to weep over him." The grin did not, could not, hide the pain in her eyes. "He would want us to continue. And I shall." She turned around, gripping the smooth rod, and whispered into the winds, hating them for who they reminded her of, loving them because of the same, so that even Inuyasha could not hear. "For you are the one I care about most...and I will never forget you." Gently she fingered the rosary around her wrist, remembering why she had it, how Miroku had given it to her to protect her from the mountain dog youkai. A single tear crept down her face but she wiped it angrily away. There was no more time for tears, for sorrow, even for one as close as Miroku, now was the time for revenge.
"Okaa-san! Okaa-san, he's awake!" the little girl leaned awkwardly over her protege as his eyes flickered open, feverishly bright. They focused on the little girl slowly, closing with a quiet groan as the pounding in his head increased.
"Shush, Yume, he is still very sick and needs quiet." The elderly, kind woman, laugh lines creasing her gentle face, carefully placed a bucket of water near his head. "You know what to do. But be mindful of his wounds." She placed a kiss on the child's forehead and turned to leave. "I have a guest but don't hesitate to come and get me if he worsens."
"Hai..." Yume murmured distractedly bathing the stranger's forehead with cool water. "I'll make you better," she talked as she worked, "Okaa-san has showed me how and now I will help you."
Her mother watched her silently, sliding the door open and shut, ignoring the cold, calculating eyes of her "guest". She felt great evil emanating from the silent man who sat before her and yet could not refuse him entry to her domicile as it also functioned as an inn to travelers. He had, in fact, brought the stranger to them, sick and injured and in great need of help.
But that had been yesterday.
"I am sorry for the wait, sir." Sighing she collapsed onto the tatami, folding her knees under her quickly. The night had been a hard one, the stranger had almost died on two occasions.
Silence pervaded the room as the man with the long black hair stared around the space in quiet cunning. It was as if he was planning something in his head at all times, he was distracted, cold, evil. The woman could feel his powerful youki even though he appeared human enough.
But then again, in this era, appearances could be deceiving.
"Tea?" She gestured to the pot, preparing to pour a cup, but he declined with a shake of his head.
"He will not remember anything when he wakes." It was suddenly spoken, surprising the woman, the shrewd eyes never moved from the door "he" lay behind as he stood and got ready to leave, pulling the baboon skin tighter around his shoulders.
"What of his name? What should I address him by?" Naraku paused, thoroughly sick of staying in the bothersome village, and pondered for a minute.
"Houshi. If that helps, he is a houshi." He moved the hanging mat aside and stepped out while the woman fingered the blade concealed at her side, wondering if she should use it. "If you value your life..." he said slowly, deliberately pausing, "don't swing that koudachi or touch the rosary that seals his right hand."
"Sir?" Calling, she stepped outside to follow him but he was gone, like blood disappearing in the water.
Aw...dramatic irony stinks doesn't it? Poor Inuyasha tachi, not knowing and all...
Well, if you liked it and think I should continue please e-mail me!