Dedication: Hello peeps—that is if anybody is reading this—I'm dedicating this one to…my little brother, who loves stories like this. And oddly enough, seems to get really excited when I mention that fact that he needs to leave me alone because I'm writing a murder scene. o.O I'll try not to dwell on how creepy that fact is….
Disclaimer: No, I don't own the show. And I'm not really sure how Rumiko Takahashi-sama would particularly like what I'm doing with her characters now. . (I'm trying something new, that's all, serious!)
Being Invited In
He was clothed only in black, from his long black trench coat, to his dark black boots. The only thing he wore that was not of the color could not be seen. However, it was because of that object that he was so widely known. It was because of this that people would travel from all over the world just to contact him. The reason behind why he was never without an assignment.
He leaned against a fence, looking at ease, all except for his eyes; which were staring in earnest through a window. He watch as a man hit his wife, knocking her to the ground, and then leaning over and began kicking her. He watched all of this without a single expression crossing his face.
The man inside began to kick his fallen wife even more brutally, almost unbalancing himself with the force of his kicks. When he finally stopped, it was only to lean down and wrench his wife to her feet.
He began to yell, screaming an inch from her face. His spittle hit her; splattering across her cheeks as he began to become more excited with his screams, jerking her around, and then slamming her against the kitchen counter. When he jerked her upwards, her face was bloody. She let out a scream, and her husband only hit her that much harder, once again knocking her to the ground. Only this time, instead of leaning over to kick her, he reached over into the drain board, and pulled out a large steak knife.
It was then that the man outside finally began to move. He stepped away from the fence, and began to walk calmly towards the house. His movements were unhurried, calculated, and with no emotion that made him pick up his pace or make his heart race. He was completely in control.
The husband looked up in surprise when he found another man in his house, but his surprise soon turned into anger at the intrusion. He opened his mouth to scream at the stranger, but was cut short when he noticed something about the man. Or more, what he had just pulled out from the confines of his dark jacket. Then he himself screamed in terror, and tried to put as much distance between the two of them as he could.
For the man had unsheathed a sword, and was holding it expertly in his right hand, glaring at the husband icily. He watched the man through dark calculating eyes, making sure that he understood what was about to happen. And then without hesitation, he brought his sword up and then cleanly down, slicing through muscle and bone.
The head of the husband rolled across the waxed kitchen floor and came to a rest near the overturned dinning room table. The woman screamed once again, only this time in disgust and fear—but not in surprise.
She looked up at him, horror and relief in her eyes. He nodded towards her, and then flicked his sword to the side, flinging blood off from the blade. Then he turned, and left the way he had come.
Through an unlocked door.
Author's Note: 6.6 Um….this is my first really attempt at anything like this for a fanfic. It's just…I looked down at my stories up here, and they were all romantic comedies! So now I'm trying to see if I can write something darker…less humorous. (It was actually a little weird; I kept trying to make him a klutzy hit man without a clue. .) So, anyway, this is the prologue—that's why it's so incredibly short—to yet another of my Miroku and Sango stories—yup, that guy you just read about was him, Miroku-san. . Now, if you do not think that this was out of character enough, then I seriously need to work on my portrayal of him.
Please review! (I even already have chapter one written out!)