Amethyst Fluff::D Thank you! I tend to try out new styles every once in a while, but I'm currently in the not-so-poetic-but-not-quite-story mood. It makes my brain implode, in that oddly good kind of way.
DRAKE220: No offense taken. I think I see where you're coming from, but even while I'm not writing in first-person, I'm attempting at making the writing fit Sango's personality and mood as it would be. If she was explaining things to herself like her incident, then she probably wouldn't make it sound as simple as possible. But thank you for the other compliments!
Igs: Thank you! I actually have read that book, and I immediately fell in love with it even after reading very little of it. It was so tragically beautiful... Course, most of this story was all influenced on the fact that I just finished my Pearl Harbor report for English, and that made me think about the atom bomb, etc. But, hey, I had that book in mind while the plot bunnies were dancing.
Sango0808: I appreciate those comments a lot - and of course, who couldn't resist fluff? Granted, this story will be very little in fluff, but it will hold a lot of desperation at a chance for romance that will never be complete. Hope that's what you're looking for!
BaByXbOoX143: Thanks! I try to use a variety of words in my descriptions, so that it doesn't get too dull and expectant. :o
xxxroxyxxx: Will do. ;D
Lily Thorne: Ipray thatit turns out that way. Let's hope my writer's block doesn't kick in, or something. XD
Hahna: Hearts for teh yobo. Hush it, you know you love angst with all your lonesome heart.
Well, the two have to meet up sometime, and what better way than Miroku coming across Sango when she's unconscious? No, despite the many speculations, he shall not be reduced to groping her... At least, not yet. Ohohoh.
RxR, my pets.)
Chapter one; Cradled
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A speck of twilight danced behind Sango's closed eyelids, and she squinted in her sleep. Morning was alive again.
Her arms stretched outwards, and she could hear the bustling city awaken with her. Now she would be open to the world, and become vulnerable. The street around her was dried again, and to an extent, warm from the sun's newly shed rays. From what she could tell, no one had disturbed the area around her in curiosity. It was only a minor consolation, however, when she thought of all the possibilities. No one would let the smell of rotting flesh pass right through them without a second thought, and she knew that. Someone was sure to have noticed the dry blood leading to this alley way, therefore coming across a dead body and a lonely girl beside it.
She had to get away.
Sango's fingers found the iris nestled between her neck and collarbone, and she stuffed it inside of her clothing, before heading to the back exit of the entrapment she was in. A foot embeded itself into a convenient hole through the fence, and she managed to thrust herself over the obstacle, but not without making it out with a couple splinters in her foot. She hissed quietly, but picked herself up and started running. The town and its inhabitants were a blur around her, and not even an ounce of her could make out the expressions that they eyed her with. She wasn't sure exactly how long she'd last, or how far her legs were willing to carry her at this point. Soon enough, her breathing became husky, and she reluctantly stopped near the outskirts of the town. There was a hint of loneliness inside of her, of longing; she needed someone to talk to, if not to confess, then to at least find solace in.
'No one would help me unless I lied...'
Lying. Sango could lie. It wouldn't impact her conscience as much as killing a man would.
Very little of her wanted to revert to this way of life. This killing, and these dirty secrets - she couldn't change herself for this. She didn't want to anymore.
She just wanted a friend. If nothing else right then, someone needed to wrap their arms around her shoulders and pull her close. Sango wanted to feel what it was like to rest against warm flesh, instead of the blisteringly frozen ground she was quite used to.
A best friend; Sango hadn't experienced one of those since grade school.
"You know what you can do? You can shove that contract up your ass, 'cause I'm not paying."
Miroku Uzumaki walked calmly down the empty hallway, whistling unphased as his employer angrily shot him a glare from his office door. He bucked his head backwards, giving the older man a wink, and clicked his tongue. "Sorry 'bud, it's not my apartment. You can get the loan from the guy who actually owns the place." Before the aggravated sales clerk could even yell his name, the door to the revenue building was bolted shut, and the young man had drifted off into the afternoon.
"Mmmm, air. That office was stuffier than a box," Miroku rasped, taking in the sensation of a crisp breeze when it swung his bangs to the side. His stomach grumbled from the absence of food inside of him, and his natural intuition took over.
"Tea doesn't help my hunger one bit... Where would a nice resturant be?"
He was new in town, having just been reassigned to manage bank accounts in Hiroshima instead of his Tokyo business contract. He definitely wasn't happy with what he was seeing; Miroku had witnessed better farm houses after a brisk tornado. His stay here in this town would be short-lived, as agreeing to relocating permenantly was absolutely out of the question. Once he was gone, then he was gone forever. No more eating at the same dumpy cafe, no more sleeping on a worn matress... He wasn't used to these primal basics. Not luxurious enough for him, he thought.
His ankle shifted to the side, and on impulse, his briefcase flew upwards and hit something soft and mushy behind him.Miroku narrowed his gaze, but he didn't need to spot whatever was near him, because the strong smell was enough to alert him of whatever decided to try and catch him off guard.
Liquor. 'A lousy drunkard, again? People must be mistaking me for a govenor or something, just by my clothing...'
The alcoholic from behind staggered backwards, clutching his forehead from the impact of the blow. Miroku's body turned slowly, and he sharply furrowed his eyebrows at the man in front of him. "You," he addressed, "what is it that you want? Food? Money? Or do you just get a kick out of mauling padestrians?"
The haggard voice from the booze-infested male made Miroku shiver in disgust. What kind of a dirty person would be reduced to living off of such a thing as whisky? "I know you have money... You smell like that colored water in the boutiques-I'll have you know I starve while you pretty yourself up!" The intoxicant flung himself at the younger man, drawing a pocket knife from his sleeve. Miroku lifted his arm upwards, and brought it down in a bone-cracking throttle as his assailant completely missed his target, sending him to the ground to try and rub his back.
"Look here, I'll have no more violence out of you. I tend to be a very collective man, and words can, indeed, get you further than frivilous jabs. You understand, sir?" Miroku grinned in an unusually optimistic way, and the drunkard couldn't make out whether it was sarcastic, or a genuine offer of peace.
He went for the latter. "Go to Hell," he bellowed, pulling his leg out from under him and sweeping it across the ground, in an attempt to catch Miroku off balance. The younger man sighed, and in a finale, shoved his foot in the drunk's face. The other man groaned, doubling over and crawling behind the trashcans to hide.
"I'm giving you another chance," Miroku spoke, "so use this wisely." He flicked a couple yen at the homeless male, whom scavanged the money while it was still descending. Before he could be thanked, Miroku was gone.
"What luck," he chuckled to himself, "I get mugged by a booze-hound on my third day. This is just perfect." Miroku made a dramatic gesture by wrapping his arms around himself, and pitched his voice higher. "I was expecting to be throttled by women, just the standard, 'Oooh, what a handsome gentleman that has come today! We'd love to serve you,' but no. The only ones that pay attention are the ones that want money."
He stopped his aimless voyage when another smell intruded his senses, only now, it wasn't liquor. He covered his nose with his hand, squinting his eyes to get a better view of what was behind the alley he was soon to pass.
He needed not to go any further when his foot landed in atrail of dried blood. He retracted, putting on his grim face.
"A dead body," he analyzed, "damn, what part of town is this whereyou canfind random dead people!"
Miroku couldn't stay in the same place for long, as the sound of feet approaching and cars passing alterted him. 'If I remain here, then the first thing they'll think is that I killed this guy..' He examined his own clothes, which were slightly dirty from his tussel with the drunkard moments ago. Before peering over to get the corpse's identity, Miroku sped off into the direction of the gates leading out of Hiroshima and into the wilderness.
"Last thing I need right now is more trouble from townsfolk."
The clouds were cast over the sky, and a rumble of thunder shook in Sango's ears, but no rain fell. She pictured the landscape being drenched all except for her figure, in which the path she walked was a barrier to the storm. She was fond of her imagination, and it made her feel more powerful than her body projected her as, at this moment.
It was still daylight, but her stride had slowed to a limp, and she imagined that she must look defenseless around now. Sango voluntarily collapsed to the grass, rubbing her hands over her arms to create enough friction to keep her warm. Much was going through her head - for starters, she had absolutely no idea where she was.
Second, her clothes were still bloody and soaking. If she didn't change soon, people would either know something went on, or she would catch a terrible illness; whichever came first.
And third; she was lonely. It might have proved to be less troublesome if she was in good condition, but Sango couldn't fight the reality for much longer. If she didn't find somewhere to stay, and someone to help her, she might be captured by the wrong people.
Being a fugitive would haunt her mind forever; she was well aware of that. 'I just want to sleep, and sleep, and sleep, and wake up to find that it's all over...'
Sango's back arched, and she whimpered, falling forward before a river bank. Her eyes squinted, struggling to keep themselves open, and her elbows lurched forward sickeningly. Before she could submit to the urge for more rest, she latched her eyes closed, and screamed to the broken sky.
A whisper followed her feral cry.
"I don't want to endure this all alone..."
Her head rolled over to the side, and her muscles relaxed, as she found her way into sleep again. Sango's body remained unperturbed for the longest time, and even while the sun began to drift downwards from the horizon, no one discovered the body of an unconscious woman in the middle of a field.
Then, the stars shone, and a man with darkened hair found his way to the very same brook she slumbered near.
Miroku blinked many times, startled to find a girl out in the middle of nowhere. The sky still rumbled around them both, while he squated down to the ground and near her motionless form. "Ah... What would a young woman be doing out here all alone? And these clothes... She must have been wounded from a fight to get such stains..."
He took his hand, and brushed a clump of matted hair from Sango's face. With her facial features now unhindered, Miroku couldn't help but gulp at the sight. 'Such a pretty-'
A loud crackle of thunder shook him out of his thoughts, and the young man looked around in panic to assure himself that the two were alone. Glancing back and forth between Sango and the way which he stumbled to this location, he debated whether he should leave her here or take her with him. "I can't abandon this girl when I've just found her, can I? Besides, she looks like she has nowhere else to go..."
Examining her from head to toe, Miroku concluded that, yes, having a woman to watch over for a little while would certainly be less boring than what he had come here for. Bracing himself, he scooped her up in his arms, and cradled her cold body to his chest. Before he set off back to Hiroshima, he took one more look at her face, and smiled warmly.
"She'd be the epitome of an angel, if she wasn't covered in blood."
His foot pivoted, and towards the town he went, with Sango interlaced between his limbs.
I'm trembling beneath a blanket of sky,
Because warmth doesn't reach the impure.
It only freezes the skin and leaves them unbreathing.
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