Slender fingers weaved their way through his inky strands, pouting lips drawing ever-closer to his own. "Mmm, Sango…" He moaned in delight. Moments later, his eyelids shot open and he was jolted back to the real world, where his Uncle's cat seemed to find his hair extremely fascinating.
Scowling, he swatted the creature away. Rubbing his eyes, he yawned and sat up, stretching all the while. He blindly groped for the small, white hair tie he kept on the nightstand beside his bed. In one swift movement, his mussed locks were combed back with his nimble digits and tied up tight.
Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he slowly drew himself up in front of the large, oak dresser that lay in front of his bed. Fumbling, he pulled out the top drawer and grabbed a navy t-shirt; plain, save the fact that it bore his favorite band's logo. Sauntering over to the closet, he pulled back the door and perused the myriad of hanging clothes until he finally extracted his selection: stiffly starched, dark denim wranglers.
Lazily crawling into his chosen garments, he slipped on his socks, stepped into his shoes, and was out the door and down the quiet hall of the upper portion of his house. He was downstairs in a flash, sidled up to the kitchen counter, taking a tentative bite of the toast that had been prepared for him an hour or so ago. It was somewhat cold, but it was enough to satiate his growling stomach.
Sweeping the crumbs off the plate and into the garbage can, he ran some water over the plate to remove the buttery trails and left it in the sink. Wiping his mouth on the back of his arm, he hung a left out the swinging kitchen doors and into the small bathroom nearly hidden behind the laundry room.
He took great care when he plucked a small tube from the hanging medicine cabinet and squeezed some thick, mint-scented goo onto his toothbrush. Wetting the head of the brush almost as an afterthought, he crammed the thing in his mouth and began the mundane, hygienic task. Taking a swig from a disposable cup, he spat in the bowl of the pedestal sink and wiped off both his mouth and his hands on the fresh towel nearby.
Miroku and his family had just arrived back from vacation the night before. It had been late, so understandably, the young man was still a little tired. It had been an interesting trip, to say the least. But very lonely. There had been no friends to joke around with. No band practice. No ice cream parlor. No Sango. It had been just he, his surrogate pop Mushin, and the wide, open air.
There had been plenty of time for soul searching, but that had never been his thing. The way he had things figured, you either lived your life to the fullest with minimal regrets (or at the very least enjoyed yourself) or you wasted away grousing or picking on about every little thing.
In any case, he had thought himself right out the door. His Hummer sat in the driveway, coated by a thin layer of dew. A close and thorough examination yielded nothing wrong with the vehicle. He smiled to himself. He would have to remember to profusely thank Shippou. The copper-haired youth may have a goofy side, but he was very reliable when it counted -- not to mention a great friend.
He was at school in a matter of minutes. He had taken the liberty to learn his own way around Shikon High, as he had predicted Sango wouldn't offer much help after the first few days. And of course, this was true: Sango could currently be found lounging in her bed, debating whether or not to go to school that day. Call it fate, call it destiny, call it a ham sandwich if you please, but Sango finally decided she would grace her peers with her oh-so-lovely presence.
She sauntered over to her closet, frowning at the meager selection available to her; she had to remember to stop lending Kagome her clothes. Deciding to merely go casual today, she pulled on a pair of worn-in jeans and her favorite shirt. She pulled back her hair into its usual style and grabbed her hoodie from the hook on the back of her bedroom door. As she sprinted down the hall, she snatched up her book bag and slung a single strap over her shoulder. Dashing into the kitchen, she grabbed a cereal bar on the fly that her younger brother Kohaku had dutifully fetched for her and was out the door before she had time to mouth goodbye.
Her rusty old bicycle was leaned up against the mailbox at the end of the driveway, where it was every morning. Her father wheeled it out from the shed and left it there for her every morning, before he headed to work. Its condition, combined with the neighborhood she and her family resided in, kept it from harm. There was no need for a chain. At least until she got to school.
Placing her cereal bar down on the very top of the dusty bricks, she quickly slipped into her hoodie. Retrieving her breakfast and thoughtlessly stuffing it into the kangaroo pouch, she took a peek inside the mailbox. Noticing a few slivers of white, she halted the process and immediately shut the lid, flicking up the little red flag as she did so. Another joint operation that she and her father carried out. For while no one would steal her bike, there had been several reports of mail theft. Her father had preferred she let the mailman know there was outgoing mail, because the time she left for school was much closer to the time the mailman made his rounds than when he went to work. A small, added precaution, that's all.
Loping around to the other side, she threw one leg over the banana seat and tucked up the kick-stand with the tip of her toe. Bringing up her legs so her feet could rest on the pedals, she sharply propelled herself forward with a single yet powerful push of her thigh. Once she was set in motion, her lower appendages were a-blur as she hurried off to school, quite literally 'as fast as her legs could carry her'.
He was coming around the corner right as she blew past. He gave a startled cry and shrank back against the wall, lest he walk around school all day with tire tracks imprinted on him. She gave a muffled cry of apology over her shoulder as she continued on her way to the bicycle racks, obviously not noticing the identity of her would-be-victim.
He gave a rueful smile and pressed on towards his first class. There would be plenty of time to admire her. After all, they did have the same schedules. When she plopped down in the seat next to his (her grudge about him duping her into that seat temporarily forgotten the moment she had a chance to sink down in it as best she could and give her aching legs a rest), she barely even glanced at him before whipping her head around to talk to Kuranosuke, who sat directly behind her.
Her impromptu ponytail whipped across his face, tickling his nose. In that brief instant, his keen sense of smell was able to detect traces of tea tree; presumably in the form of shampoo. He himself adored the scent and he would have gladly sat there all day sniffing at Sango's hair if it were not for the reality of the situation.
Snapping out of his self-induced stupor, he diverted his attention towards the front of the room, his eyes scanning what had been hastily scrawled out under the section of the board devoted entirely to the day's schedule. Running mentally through the list, he began to check things off as he extracted them from his dark purple, leather-bottomed Jansport book bag.
A Separate Peace. Check. Study Guide. Check. Thesis Statement. Check. He seemed to have everything Yura-sensei required for the day. Leaning over, he hesitantly tapped Sango's shoulder, drawing her attention. She fixed him with a scowl; she and Kuranosuke had been engaged in the most fabulous conversation. "Yes, Houshi-sama?"
He stared at her a moment, then shook his head. "Never mind," He murmured sullenly. He had been about to ask her an actual, relevant question, but seeing her hateful look had stopped him in his tracks. He frowned to himself. Sure, he and Sango may not have exactly gotten off on the right foot (and admittedly, he had done nothing to make her adjustment to acknowledging his presence easer) but there was really no need for such un-civil arguments. So he'd decided just to let it drop.
Sango returned his steady gaze, the look of mistrust in her eyes softening ever-so-slightly as she observed genuine interest, not of the lecherous sort. The way his voice came out almost silky as his thin lips drew together to form what resembled a pout, making them almost…kissable.
She gasped at the thought. Kuranosuke, who had been rifling through his bag for something, glanced up sharply. He easily detected the sudden tension between Sango and Miroku. "…Sango?" He questioned, a bit of an edge creeping into his voice.
"Hmm?" She tore her eyes away from Miroku's to smile sweetly at her boyfriend. A look of 'realization' flickered across her face, and she forced a sigh. "Oh. That." She began slowly, referring to the gasp. She could play this nicely and avoid any and all uncomfortable situations. As much as she may have disliked Miroku, he didn't particularly deserve to be mauled for something that, for once, wasn't any fault of his. "I think I forgot my study guide, Osuke-kun. That's all. But it is worth big points…" She added, trailing off for effect.
"Want me to help you look for it?" Kuranosuke motioned toward both her book bag and the large accordion folder atop her desk.
"Nah." Sango shook her head. "I've got it covered."
Kuranosuke nodded, satisfied, and went back to searching for whatever he had previously been. Sango discreetly slipped her study guide, which in all truths, had been directly under her accordion folder (she had removed it shortly after sitting down) and slipped it into her bag. When she leaned over sideways, her eyes widened in mock amazement and she let out a quiet squeal. "Oh, here it is, Osuke-kun!"
He flashed her a grin. "That's great, San-chan." And just as he leaned over to deliver a peck to her cheek, Yura-sensei waltzed into the room and the bell rang. As Sango quickly whipped around in her seat so as not to get scolded, Kuranosuke could barely mask his look of disappointment. Miroku could barely mask his look of glee. In fact, such a huge grin threatened to take over his face that he had to stare down at his desk for some time.
Yura-sensei finished sifting through the mountains of paper on her desk and strode to the front of the room, plastering an eerily cheerful smile on her face. "Good morning, class." She greeted them, an equally disturbing twinkle in her eyes.
"Good morning, Yura-sensei," The class responded carefully, eyeing her warily.
She disregarded their tentative expressions and for once let their subdued and not all-together enthusiastic response slide. She clapped her hands together, her twisted smile morphing into a monstrous grin. Oh yes, something was definitely up. "I trust you had a fine weekend?" She inquired, sounding quite chipper.
If they weren't suspicious before, they were now. Yura-sensei was never this way unless she was about to unleash some sort of horrible bomb of an assignment on them. Of course, this time was no exception. "I trust you all have your thesis statements?" She added, glancing around the room, catching the nods of almost fearful agreement. "That's very good. Because I decided that instead of next week, your papers will be due Wednesday."
Wednesday. It was Monday. Instead of getting a whole school week, plus the weekend, to work on them, they got a measly two days. Which maybe wouldn't be so bad if this paper was an individual assignment. But no, it was to be jointly written. Meaning Sango's thesis was identical to Miroku's (though that took some time -- the day Yura-sensei had given them for pre-draft work, most partnerships only took about ten minutes to come up with their thesis statements, while Miroku and Sango had taken the whole period and then some). Which is what he had originally been leaning over to ask her about.
Initially, the plan was for the students to spend as much time in class completing the paper was they possibly could, reducing the inconvenience of having to seek out their partners in their free time. This had been Sango's only solace the day the rubric had been addressed. But now, it was near impossible not to have to meet up after school and work on it. Which was ultimately Yura-sensei's plan, though no one was aware of it. She was not going to sit through another faculty meeting and listen to Totousai-sensei, Shikon High's principal, preach and lecture about the uncooperative nature of the school's students again!
After some serious work, the most anxious students noticed the time and began to pack up, signaling a chorus of zippers and clasps and all sorts of noises. Everyone crowded around the door for the last few minutes and when the first bell rang, consenting their release, everyone stampeded out into the already crowded hall. Kuranosuke got swept away in the mass of people, shouting promises of a continuation of their conversation at lunch. Sango smiled faintly and hurried to her next class, unaware that a certain boss of hers was the one being crammed up against her from behind.
She entered her second period classroom, unknowingly shadowed by Miroku. She strolled across the cool tile and took her seat in the back of the room. She noticed Miroku fumbling about out of the corner of her eye and smiled maliciously, as this was the one class where "partners" weren't sat next to each other, as the youngest teacher in their school, Kagura-sensei, promoted mingling. Thus, their seats were changed frequently. It was, after all, a theatre class, and you never knew who you'd end up working with next. Better that you know them ahead of time.
But Sango's freedom was short-lived. After checking the whiteboard for the journal prompt and filling the next twenty lines in her spiral notebook designated for this class, she was allowed to settle back and relax for a mere three minutes after the final bell rang and the late-comers rushed to get their daily entry complete so they wouldn't end up having to make it up. Immediately afterwards, Kagura-sensei flitted back into her mini "office", having left instructions to get into their groups and practice their skits.
Miroku sauntered over as everyone else shuffled to find their partner, met halfway by Sango's reproachful sneer. He averted his gaze, concentrating on the wall behind her. After what seemed like an eternity, he reached her side of the room. "I wrote us a script," He offered, almost shyly, as he held out two stapled pieces of paper.
Sango redirected her withering expression to the paper. Miroku swore he saw it shrivel under her fierce scowl. At long last, she nodded sharply, snatching the papers from his hands. "It better not be disgusting," She muttered in warning.
The only response she received was an enigmatic smile. Her grip on the paper tightened and she swiftly dropped her eyes to scan the script, now convinced the whole thing was full of wicked, immodest things. But to her surprise, she found herself skimming one of the most beautiful, captivating things she had ever read. She slowed down her pace so she could absorb the bulk of it.
When she had finished, she stared in shock up into Miroku's beaming face. "You really wrote this?" She looked skeptical.
His pleased expression faltered. "Yes," He nodded quietly, looking rather hurt at her semi-accusation. "I did."
"I…" She trailed off, not really knowing how to express herself to the one she thought to be consumed by perversion to the point of being able to formulate an intelligent thought. "It's really good." She finished lamely, after a long pause.
Miroku was disappointed, but he didn't show it. "So…" He hesitated, casting his gaze back towards the papers in her hand. "You have to objections?" He inquired weakly.
"Not a one!" She flashed him an impulsive and highly spontaneous grin, thoroughly taking him aback. However, when she realized what she was doing, that delightful expression melded back into the usual one she carried when he was around. But, something about her seemed much more gentle. But he shrugged this off and the hour had passed before he knew it.
The remaining two hours before lunch flew by. The whole thing had a kind of ethereal feeling about it. He and Sango actually seemed to be getting along. Truly, her impression of him had softened. She no longer found him quite as obnoxious. Nor did he appear to be as intrusive as she had once thought. In fact, now that she took the time to notice it, except for the few times he had teased her that week, he actually seemed pretty meek at school. A far cry for the lecherous, womanizing swindler she had grown accustomed to. And as much as it pained her to admit it, she could even picture herself befriending this nicer, more polite Miroku.
She'd had half a mind to invite him to sit with her and the others, but he had instantly fled the room the instant the bell had rung. As soon as he had left the room, it was like a weight had been lifted. She felt a sudden wave of relief hit her. He had left. Had the infectious madness she had come down with passed? It would seem so. As soon as he was out of her site, all feelings of good-will towards him dissipated at once and she fell back into her old way of thinking. Snorting out loud, she crossed her arms as she stormed across campus. How dare that moronic hentai lure her in! It was humiliating!
Hugging her book to her chest, she forced her way to her locker. Once there, she proceeded to unload and then reload her bag with the necessities she required. Grabbing some lunch money, she slammed her locker shut and hurried to the cafeteria, throwing her cereal bar wrapper away in the first trash can she passed; she had eaten it on the way to her first class and forgotten to throw the packaging out.
Spotting her friends almost immediately, she slipped into line in front of them and promptly engaged in a conversation about whatever struck them as odd or suited their fancy that day. Sango noticed Ayame was unnaturally quiet but she was almost afraid to mention it. When Kagome decided to rant about her day, Sango only lent her half an ear: keeping the other -- and both eyes -- fixed on her red-haired friend. Something was definitely up.
Elsewhere, Miroku lay sprawled out on a grassy hill, ignoring the slight damp seeping into the back of his shirt. They had apparently just watered this field the hour before; still somewhat protruding sprinkler heads supported this guess. He had no lunch, as Mushin drank away what little portion of the household income that wasn't spent on bills, and there had been no time to make himself one. So, ignoring the pained rumblings of his stomach, he concentrated on watching the clouds.
Sango had just excused herself to go to the restroom. So as her friends continued chatting on about who-knows-what, she found herself venturing down the empty hall. Something about the way the light hit the window drew her attention and she found herself turning to look out the window on her right. The first thing she caught site of was a lone figure off in the distance, slumped over in the grass in the middle of one of the fields. She found herself squinting, trying to place the face. Then it hit her. Miroku? He was just laying there, like a lump on the ground. She observed his surroundings, spying nothing but him -- not even his book bag.
For some reason, she felt concerned. Had he eaten lunch? Before she could stop herself, she found herself back in the cafeteria, approaching the front of the snack bar line. Realizing what she was doing as she exited the school building altogether, giant cookie in hand, much to the surprise of her friends. It was too late to turn back now. He had glanced up and spotted her. If only she had pulled away a second earlier, she could have made an honorable retreat. But now, turning face and walking away when it had been obvious she was heading towards him would not only be an insult to Miroku, but an insult to herself. And while she didn't care too much about the latter, she definitely cared about the former.
At last she arrived at his side. A stretching silence passed between them. Finally, she sighed and plopped down. He almost looked amused. She raised a brow at his silent chuckle but let it drop, wordlessly breaking off a chunk of the cookie for herself and offering the rest to him. He seemed surprised, but after a moment, he accepted her offering and began to munch on it thoughtfully.
When he could bare the quiet not longer, he asked, quite simply and to the point, "Why?"
It was her turn to look startled. "Why?" She repeated, to which he nodded. "I…Dunno." She concluded with a quirky little shrug.
He could have drug a better answer out of her, but he let it pass. But when the silence once again threatened them, he found himself speaking once more, only this time in more coherent phrases. "It's a nice day out."
She nodded.
"Perfect for cloud gazing."
"First the script and now this."
"Huh?"
"I never knew you were so creative, Miroku."
"A lot of people don't," He smiled wryly.
"Mmm…" She trailed off, leaning back and propping herself up with her elbows. She gave her hair a toss before leveling her gaze on him. "Do you sit out here a lot?"
"No," He admitted. "This is my first time."
"I see," She nodded sagely. A shy tone crept into her voice. "This is kind of nice…"
He finished his part of the cookie before responding. "Yeah."
She decided to venture out on a limb, while she had him. "Why…Do you act the way you do?"
He blinked. "What do you mean?"
"You know…" She squirmed uncomfortably.
"No, I don't." He confessed.
"You must," She pleaded. If he didn't know, that meant…It came naturally. For some unknown reason, she felt very strongly about this. She had to know.
Finally it dawned on him, as to what she might be referring to. "Oh…You mean all the…?"
She nodded.
"Because…I'm really like that?" He sighed. This was it.
She didn't believe him, even though the words had come out of his own mouth. "You're lying," Her eyes narrowed. "I know you are. No one writes something so sweet and so sincere if all they can think about is getting some."
He laughed; an earnest sort of laugh. "So you caught me. No, Sango, I'm not really like that," Here he paused to look up at the sky, his striking azure orbs fluttering closed as the wind blew gently at them. He did not say anything else for a long time. Neither did Sango, and he feared she had gotten up and left in his moment of weakness. But when his eyes opened, she was still there. And…She was smiling. This gave him a strange sort of courage. "I'm not really like that. I don't want to be like that. But you see…I need to," He finished lamely.
Before she had a chance to respond to this, he abruptly stood up. "Thanks for the cookie," He returned the smile, with a sad one of his own. "And the company. I guess this makes us…'Friends'." With that, he left, striding off across the field, the grass about him rippling in the wind, giving everything a surreal feeling. It was as if he himself were suspended on silver wings.
Sango herself hurried away in the general direction of her next class, for the bell was sure to be ringing soon. And indeed it did. She was a little nervous about seeing Miroku in her other classes; afraid to break the moment of truce they had had out on the field. But he wasn't there. And he wasn't there for the remaining two classes.
As the seconds ticked by, Sango found herself growing increasingly worried. Finally, though, she had to stop and ask herself: Why on earth was she getting worked up about a man whom she had gone from loathing to being 'friends' with in a mere five minutes or so? And how had that happened anyway?
A/N: Eh. Hello, all. *dies from exhaustion* As you can see, I'm back from whatever little break I decided to take with this fic. But here is an uber long update to make up for it. I hope you can forgive me. I decided not to postpone Miroku's return and get right to the good stuff. So I hope you enjoyed. Oh yes, in case you were wondering: the 'suspended on silver wings' part came from 1,000 no Kotoba (1,000 Words). It's strange, really. I had written all the way up to that part and as it's pretty early in the morning and I didn't get a lot of sleep, I was starting to nod off right where I sat. so I decided to listen to music to wake me up and the first one I saw, I clicked. It happened to be said song. And as I listened to the song, it struck me as ironic. For almost all the phrases in there either a) applied to this chapter or b) I could see this chapter as a sort of 'prologue' to those scenarios. So if I have the inspiration by the time Sango and Miroku finally get together, maybe I'll do a chapter that ties up the loose ends I created in my mind.
Anyway, I have finally exceeded the 100 review mark. Currently I rest at 101, I believe. Thank you all so much. I know this sounds incredibly cheesy, but you don't know how much that means to me. But don't stop there xD! I'm not up to doing reader review responses for this chapter as I want to get this up and posted in the few minutes left before I have to go to school. Half day, yay! Maybe I can work on another chapter when I get home. Oh yes, pardon any typos and whatnot. I didn't read through this. I will later, though. I promise.
Please Review!