AUTHOR'S NOTES: Yay! Reviews! I looove reviews. I thrive off them. (In case you hadn't noticed, that is a bit of a hint for reviews ). Someone asked if I was going to be writing a lemon in the future. That would be a no. Some fluff, yes, but no lemon. And as proof of that, I've got the beginnings of fluff in this chapter. And yes, Taishoku Kurayami, I'm a Kikyo fan. Kikyo just plain rules, in my humble opinion.
ABOVE AND BEYOND
Chapter Three: Ground Rules
"You don't look too happy to see me," Miroku noted in his usual cheerful tone. "Why on earth could that be?"
The pathetic thing was that he didn't even sound sarcastic.
Sango glanced nervously around the school. She'd left the school late, luckily; after all, she'd had to get the fiasco with her locker cleaned up. But there were still quite a bit of people still milling around school grounds, and nearly all of them were staring at the oddly-dressed teenager in front of them.
And then their eyes would slide up to the girl who he was talking to.
Her.
Her cheeks heated up at the raised eyebrows and snorts of laughter. She could only thank the Lord that most people were in a hurry to leave school and wouldn't bother to stick around. But for those who had, she was sure she'd made a first impression. After all, didn't people say someone could be judged by the type of people they associated themselves with?
This isn't funny anymore, she thought furiously. It never was funny in the first place! I told him to leave!
And yet there he was.
She swung her bag over her shoulder and strode past Miroku as if he didn't exist, though her heart was beating unnaturally fast and her head was down so that she wouldn't have to look at everyone else. She prayed that Miroku took the hint and left her alone.
"Hey, where are you going?" he asked, hurrying in stride behind her, his sandals slapping lightly against the sidewalk. The rings on his staff began to clash together, and Sango began to walk even more quickly, though he was easily keeping pace with her. Was he trying to embarrass her?
"Leave me alone," she hissed under her breath. "I told you to go away and find someone else to do your little freak-show on."
"Well, you're in an awfully bad mood," he noted.
"What an observation," she marveled sarcastically.
"Indeed."
Arrggh! The guy was completely infuriating! She was tempted to give him a smack on the head, but that would be revealing that she actually knew this wackjob. So she did what she'd done earlier and continued ignoring him. Which he obviously wasn't picking up on. If he was, he wasn't letting it get to him, that much was clear.
"So, are you heading home now?"
By this point, Sango was relieved to see that she was at the end of the street corner, finally out of earshot for all the students still at the school. She hoped sincerely that by this point, they'd lost interest. After all, this was Tokyo, one of the largest cities in the world. Freaks were all over the place here. Although a teenage guy dressed in monk's clothing probably was a first for them.
She whirled on him, ponytail flipping into her eyes. "It doesn't matter where I'm headed!" she shouted. "Because you are not going to be accompanying me, understand?!"
"Well, that's silly," he said with a laugh. "Of course I'm going to be accompanying you, Sango. As your guardian angel, that's what I'm supposed to do. Clearly you're very uninformed when it comes to matters such as these."
She clenched her hands at her sides, willing herself not to use them for evil purposes—such as, oh say… strangling him. She just barely managed not to. "Will you stop calling me your guardian angel?" she said irritably. "Because as I told you last night, I don't want all this weird crap to involve me in any way. My life is hard enough right now."
"My dear Sango," he said with a heavy sigh (though how he still managed to stay smiling through such a heavy sigh, she wasn't quite sure), "that is precisely what I am here for. To guide you and make your life easier."
Now Sango could see that other civilians were staring at her: the girl with the barely held temper and the oddly-dressed boy who wouldn't stop smiling for a second. She couldn't handle this right now; her anger was festering up to the point where it would explode at any given moment.
"Look," she said, rubbing her temple as a headache began to form, "if you want to do me a favor, then leave me alone for a little while, okay? I'll deal with you when I'm not as angry. Because right now I think I want to kill you."
From the slight drop in his smile, it seemed he realized that she wasn't kidding. "All right," he agreed. "I'll go see Inuyasha or something, I suppose. But don't you worry, because I'll be back, okay?" He winked.
Very funny.
"Oh, I'll try not to," she mumbled under her breath as he vanished in thin air. Several people stopped and gaped, and Sango sighed. He just had to do that, didn't he… I guess I did deserve that one, though, for trying to so hard to get rid of him.
"Good trick, huh?" she commented to the still-gaping passersby. "He does that one all the time."
They began to relax, and one person even clapped. Sango rolled her eyes and continued on her walk, making a mental note to stop by Kohaku's middle school. Thanks to Miroku, she was a bit late, so she picked up her pace.
"Stupid idiot," she muttered under her breath. "Him and that stupid, stupid smile…" She kicked a stone in frustration. "Stupid, stupid, stupid..."
"What's stupid?"
"Gah!" Sango nearly jumped out of her skin until she saw that she'd somehow walked to the middle school building and Kohaku now stood in front of her. "Geez, don't scare me like that!" she complained. "You nearly gave me a heart attack."
"You're too fit to get a heart attack, sis," he put in.
Well, that was true.
"What's stupid?" he asked again. "'Cause you didn't look too happy."
Sango sighed. Once again, Miroku had screwed her over; she couldn't tell Kohaku about him, or else the boy would think she was a nutcase. "Nothing," she said lightly. "Just some of my homework, that's all."
"Oh."
"Watch out!"
The warning had come far too late. A football sailed through the air and landed squarely on Kohaku's head. The boy winced as the football bounced off and landed on the sidewalk beside them. Sango scowled—the football had sailed smoothly through the air in perfect spirals; whoever had thrown it had obviously known where it was going, so there was no chance that it had "accidentally" hit her brother.
A boy who looked to be about a year or two older than Kohaku stood on the football field with a few other boys. He was heavy-set, not so much fat as he was pudgy, with a large mop of dark hair. And he was smiling. Smiling at the fact that her brother had just been hit with the ball he'd thrown.
"Ah, man, sorry about that," he apologized. His tone was completely insincere.
"It's okay," Kohaku mumbled, staring at the ground.
Sango picked up the football that was still wobbling around the sidewalk at her feet. "Is this yours?" she asked in a falsely pleasant voice. Her fingers were turning white on the football; if she kept squeezing it so hard, it would break in no time.
The boy smiled. "Why don't you bring it over here so I can see your pretty face closer?" he offered.
Sango almost gagged. A prepubescent boy was hitting on her! What was the world coming to?
"No, I'm good," she responded, then hauled off and threw the football. It flew through the air in a precise arc, until it hit the boy square on the head. His friends laughed as he clutched his head, letting out a whine of pain.
"Oh, I'm sorry," she apologized, not sounding sorry at all. "Did I hit you?"
"Bitch," he moaned.
"Come on, Kohaku," she muttered, shooting the boy one last glare (though he was so busy pissing and moaning she doubted he noticed) before stalking off, grabbing Kohaku's arm as she did so. He watched her silently, amber eyes wide.
"Who was that?" she asked him when they were far from the football field. "That boy."
"Yukio Oko," Kohaku said with a frown. "He's an eighth grader."
"So he's two years older than you?" she asked. "He's thirteen?"
He nodded. "Yeah."
"Yukio, huh?" she repeated, more to herself than Kohaku. "So why did he hit you?"
"Sis, it's not like he meant—" Kohaku began, but Sango cut him off.
"Don't even begin to make excuses for that lowlife," she hissed. "He hit you, Kohaku! And on purpose! Why would he do that?"
"He didn't mean to, sis," he insisted again, but he wouldn't look Sango in the eyes.
A bully, I'll bet… and Kohaku's afraid to say something to me because he thinks I'll interfere and make things worse, is that it?
She sighed, looking at Kohaku's downcast face. If he didn't want her to interfere, then she wouldn't, no matter how much it killed her. She wouldn't put him in such a position.
But when the time comes, Kohaku... you damn well better kick that boy's ass.
Sango adjusted the strap around her shoulder as she pushed the key into the lock. After a minute of jimmying it around—the lock was a bit cheap—she heard a click, and pushed open the door.
She frowned as she heard the sounds of the TV coming from the living from. Her father didn't wasn't due home for another few hours at the earliest, and she was almost positive the television hadn't been on this morning.
"Sis, what are you standing in the door for? Hurry it up."
Sango moved through the doorway to let Kohaku pass. The first thing that caught her eye was the TV; on it appeared to be several thin, blonde models wearing nothing but undergarments. And sitting on the couch facing said models was none other than a boy with dark hair pulled into a short ponytail at the nape of his neck.
Oh, dear Lord.
As Kohaku walked through the door, Sango did the first thing that came to her mind and tackled him to the ground. She could not let him see Miroku, no matter what.
"Mmrmph!" Kohaku muttered, his mouth pinned to the orange carpet.
The monk in question turned at the loud thump that had occurred when Sango had tackled Kohaku. He raised a questioning eyebrow at her, looking slightly amused.
She gave him a look of seething fury. "Go," she mouthed, barely able to stop herself from running over and beating him until he was a mangled corpse. She pointed to her room, feeling a bit like an angry mother who had just caught her son stealing from the cookie jar. Miroku nodded, disappearing, and Sango stood up, getting off of Kohaku, who was still struggling underneath her grasp.
"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded when she released him. His face was red from where it had been shoved into the orange carpet. "You almost suffocated me!"
"Sorry!" she apologized with a sheepish laugh. "One of my clumsy moments, I guess. I tripped."
Kohaku muttered something under his breath that sounded distinctly like, "psycho," but Sango let it go. She had been acting like a crazy person, after all. Not that it was her fault or anything. If that stupid pervert hadn't showed up...
Which reminded her. That pervert was waiting for her in her room. And he was going to get the scolding of a lifetime, that was for sure.
Once she took care of Kohaku, that was.
"Hey, Kohaku," Sango said, turning to the still-grumbling boy. "You know what you could do for me that would make me love you even more than I already do? Which is a lot," she added quickly.
He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What?"
She pulled out a few hundred yen from her pocket and stuffed it into his hand. "Why don't you buy Kirara some cat food?" she suggested, her tight face implying it was more of an order than a request.
He glanced down at the wad of bills. "But sis, this is more than I would need to buy cat food."
"Then go buy yourself some candy or something, you're too skinny anyway." She grabbed his shoulders and steered him toward the door.
"But Kirara doesn't need cat food!" he tried again. "She has plenty left."
"Just go!" she snapped, pushing him out the door. She flashed him a quick (though rather fake) smile. "Have fun," she commented in a falsely cheery voice before slamming the door in his face.
She listened intently against the door until she heard the sound of feet slapping against the floor. Good; he was leaving.
Now for the real problem.
"Miroku, get your ass over here now!" she yelled. She didn't normally feel comfortable cursing, but there was something about that monk that made her want to spit out a maelstrom of foul words.
After a minute, Miroku emerged from her room, smiling pleasantly. "Why, hello, Sango." He took in her scowl with a slight frown of his own. "You shouldn't scowl like that all of the time. I'm sure you have a much prettier smile."
As if she would ever smile at him.
"Shut up," she mumbled. "Why are you here?"
"Maybe you haven't grasped the concept of a Beyond before," he said. "You see, as I am now your guardian angel, I am to stay with you and guide you through your turmoil—"
"I wasn't talking about that," she interrupted. Her headache was quickly beginning to return. "I mean, I told you to visit me later. I thought you were visiting Inuyaga."
"Inuyasha," he corrected automatically.
"Whatever."
"Well, I was," he said, "but he wasn't in the best mood, you see. The girl he guards over was a bit angry with him."
"If he's anything like you, then I can understand why," she said, feeling a bit of sympathy toward the girl stuck in her position.
He just grinned. It was, Sango realized, a grin that was beginning to piss her off.
"So, I'm guessing you're not going to leave?" she asked.
"Why would I leave?" Miroku asked levelly. "I'm perfectly content with you."
That was the problem.
Why was he so focused on staying with her? One ass was another to him—couldn't he just find another girl to follow, one who wouldn't continually slap him and be so mean to him? She was starting to understand that Miroku liked things the hard way.
If that was the case, two could play at that game. She'd let him be her "guardian angel" for now. But that didn't mean she would make it easy for him.
"All right," she gave in. "I'll let you stay. But," she added quickly, before Miroku could get any ideas, "I have a few ground rules to lay down first."
"Ground rules?" he repeated, his smile faltering slightly.
"Yes."
"I think we should go sit down," he suggested calmly. "I have a feeling this will take a while."
He plopped down on the couch, and Sango followed suit, making sure to sit as far away from him as humanly possible. "Now," she began, "first off." She held out her hands to count. "If you're going to be my guardian angel, that means no revealing yourself to my family. I don't want to have to explain this to them, or my dad may think I'm going insane." And Kohaku might follow your influence and become a pervert like you, she thought, but didn't add that in.
"Number two," she continued, "when you're following me around like the stalker you are, don't show yourself. If that means you have to use one of your psychic powers or whatever to make yourself invisible, then fine. If you can't do that, then don't follow me. People were staring at me badly enough today. I'm going to be a walking circus if I continue to have a twenty-year-old monk following me everywhere."
"Nineteen," he corrected.
"Thirdly," she went on, ignoring him, "no groping. Or anything perverted."
He didn't say anything. That was odd; she'd thought he would put up more of a fight against such a rule.
"Miroku? Are you listening?"
He was staring at the TV screen, his eyes becoming glassy. Sango blushed as she realized the TV set was still on the channel which contained women prancing about in their scanty underwear. She grabbed the remote and shut it off quickly.
She cleared her throat. "Thirdly," she said again, loudly. "No groping or anything perverted."
"What?"
A glare. "You heard me."
He sighed. "Normally, I wouldn't agree to such rules, but for you, my dear Sango, I will try."
My dear Sango?
What was he on?
And why did she blush when he said that? This was stupid! She shouldn't blush over the pervert's dumb comments!
She heard the sound of the doorknob twisting. "Shoot!" she muttered. She hadn't expected Kohaku would be back early, but then again, the grocery store was only a block away. "Go!" she murmured quickly. "My brother can't see you!"
He winked at her. "I'll be in your room."
Then he vanished.
The door burst open and Kohaku came in with a bag of cat food in his right hand. "Were you talking to someone?" he asked. "I thought I heard voices."
"Nope, nope, just your imagination," she said hastily. "So, uh, I'll be in my room then. Bye!"
She floundered off quickly to her room, locking the door behind her. She felt a bit bad about being so secretive with Kohaku, but he really couldn't know about Miroku. The results would be disastrous.
She just wished the boy wasn't so damn perceptive. At this rate, her secret would leak in a matter of days.
Miroku was flipping through an old album, lazing on her bed. Man, did he get around quickly. He could have only been in her room for thirty seconds at the most, but already he'd pulled out a photo album.
She sat down on her desk chair and watched him silently, noticing the way his eyes would dance with mirth when he looked at certain photos and how he smiled somewhat crookedly. She was so intent on watching him that she was startled when he looked up at her and spoke.
"You were a really cute kid."
"Oh." Sango blushed and looked down as she realized she'd been caught staring at him. "Uh… thanks…"
"Who's that?" he asked, pointing to someone in a photo. "That woman there."
Sango moved from the chair and tentively sat beside him to take a look at the picture.
Her stomach dropped as she saw the picture he was pointing to.
In it, a six-year-old Sango was holding the hand of a pretty woman of thirty. Sango's remaining hand was holding a large cone of strawberry ice cream that was already halfway melted, trickling down her hands in goopy, pink rivulets. Her face was one of pure disgust, but the woman's eyes were shining and her mouth was open wide in laughter.
Sango had had that same picture framed on her dresser once. And then, when her mother had died, she'd gotten furious and ripped the photo to shreds, hating that smiling face, beautiful and happy. The face of an angel. A face that she would never see again.
"Oh…"
Miroku looked up at her curiously. "Oh, what?""It's…" She swallowed, trying to draw her gaze away from the picture, but finding herself unable to. "It's just a picture of me and my mother. We… were at the boardwalk, and she bought me strawberry ice-cream because it was my favorite." She pushed the photo album away. "It's a stupid picture, anyway. We weren't even posing when my father took it."
"That's what makes it special."
She blinked. "What?"
Miroku shrugged. "I'm not quite accumulated with these 'photograph' things quite yet—though Inuyasha has told me about them—but it seems to me that it is full of people smiling when they don't want to. The smiles are false. But these are true." He smiled. "That's why it's special."
She had never thought of it like that. "I guess…"
Somehow Miroku seemed a lot more tolerable than he had a few moments ago.
Her father arrived home at seven. Sango didn't have to look at his face to see that he was exhausted; his slumped form was a dead giveaway.
"Hey, Dad," she greeted as she pulled out a few cookies from the kitchen. Miroku had left a little while ago, after she had started her homework.
"Hi, honey," her father said tiredly. "How was your day?"
"Good, I guess," she replied with a shrug. "What about you?"
"Exhausted," he responded predictably. "Where's the remote?"
"On the cushion," she said without thinking. Her father reached out and grabbed it, and then Sango remembered—
"No, Dad, don't!" she yelled.
Too late.
Her father clicked on the television, his eyes widening from beneath his glasses.
"Why are there nude women on the TV?"
Whoops...
AN: Why does Sango's dad have glasses? Beats me. Maybe he just has glasses because in the actual TV series, he did have impaired vision only there were no such things as glasses during the Sengoku Jidai. Yeah, that's it…
