Transcends
He screamed until he had no voice. He screamed, hoping it would take away the bitter pain in his heart, but all it did was take away his energy to give substance to the all-consuming grief threatening rending his heart in two. And even after his vocal cords refused to take further punishment, small moans paid testament to the sobs wreaking his shoulders.
It wasn't supposed to end this way.
It was never supposed to end this way.
It wasn't happening.
It couldn't be happening.
He waited for her to wake up. At any moment, he knew that she was going to open her eyes and cough. She was a fighter – oh gods, how he loved her fighting spirit! Sango… his precious Sango, his beloved Sango – would never give up. Never.
Some part of him wished he could – some logical part knew that the sooner he could accept, the sooner the healing process could begin. He knew that life was a cycle, complete with a birth, a life, a death, and – in the afterlife – a rebirth. He knew that he was but one man, and that he had no control over the cycle…
But none of that mattered. None of it even was in the forefront of his mind. He didn't care about the damned cycle of life. He didn't care that death was a natural part of life. He didn't care about any of it.
All that he cared about was the precious young woman he held in his arms. All he cared about was his Sango.
He pressed his lips to her cooling forehead, murmuring passionately into her clamming skin. "Wake up Sango!" He clutched her still form in a bruising grip; he shook her. "Wake up!"
He was vaguely aware of Kagome taking a shocked step back from him. Undoubtedly she thought him mad; indeed, there was probably a fervent glint in his eye that paid testament to such – but he wasn't mad. They didn't know her like he did. They didn't know his Sango; he knew that she would never give up, even if the others didn't.
The moments slipped by, and still she did not stir.
"Miroku –" Kagome spoke uncertainly.
She had been buried once before in her life – placed prematurely in her grave. He wouldn't let it happen again. Instead, he clutched her even more tightly to his chest, as if defending some precious morsel from rabid wolves. He looked up at Kagome grudgingly, his eyes over bright and his posture defensive. "No," he hissed. "Just give her a chance, Kagome!"
The miko's eyes shone brightly with tears of her own. "She's gone, Miroku."
He closed his eyes and curled over Sango's body, trying desperately to hum over the miko –trying desperately to not to hear her words. Trying desperately to not believe her words.
And there they were – frozen in silent stalemate. It stretched for what felt like a horrible eternity though in reality barely a few scant moments passed. Kagome was speaking but her words were nothing but a dribble of random sounds to him; he wasn't listening. He couldn't listen and maintain what few dignified shreds were left of his sanity.
He fixated on the ground, instead, for once in his life shutting out all reason and logic. For once in his life, he allowed himself to scorn so called 'truth' and 'sense'.
What irony, then, that logic was returned to him by one member of their party for whom he would be unable to return the favor…
The tiny cat approached her mistress tentatively. Miroku probably wouldn't have even noticed the demon's approach if it weren't for the fact that he had fixated on the ground. As it were, he blinked as he noticed Kirara's hesitant stride…
Perhaps the familiar felt guilty for having left her mistress alone. But alas, what was done was done – Kirara had done her misstress's bidding, and now, they were united once again. She was ready to forgive the harsh tone, and hoped that her mistress was ready to accept her back again… As true and affectionate as any pet, the fire-cat butted her soft head against her mistress's hand. And then, she waited.
She waited for Sango to do as she always did. She waited for the slayer to pick up her beloved companion. To coddle and stroke the fire-cat. To play and laugh and smile… She waited for her beloved mistress to make things right again. Kirara had missed her human keeper very dearly these past days, and now that they were reunited, the firecat simply couldn't seem to understand why there was no joyous reunion.
Kirara waited, her head tilted quizzically to one side, waiting for her mistress's response. But when the moments slipped by and the cold hand did not stir, Kirara mewed and butted again, hopefully.
Miroku wondered, not for the first time, how intelligent the cat-demon was. What could be going through her thoughts? Was she on a more superficial level, wondering if perhaps her mistress was still angry with her?
Was she wondering if the scent of her mistress's blood in the air was her fault? Perhaps if she had stayed with her…
Or perhaps, just like Miroku, she was certain that her faithful persistence would coax the taijiya back to life.
He didn't even realizing he was echoing Kagome's words until after they left his mouth… "She's gone, Kirara." How ironic, now, that he found himself to be the one with no solace to offer, but rather only the awkward knowledge that came with knowing better.
What horrible, bitter, twisting irony.
Inuyasha, Kagome, and Shippo could only stand to the side awkwardly, unable to offer any solace to the bitterly weeping monk.
It's been quite a while – sorry, all! Got an internship, been busy with school (I'm a Junior now!)… But I didn't forget about you all. Your reviews have been so kind – so here is another chapter (since one of you asked for insight into Miroku's thoughts). So, what do you think – is this the last chapter? I don't want it to be – but I need some reviews to motivate me! Ask and you shall receive!