Every Time
Disclaimer: I would quite like to own Inuyasha, but I don't.
Chapter 6: Hope
There is no such thing as a perfect happy ending.
She knew this. She realized this the day her whole life was thrown off kilter.
But she could still try for it. Couldn't she?
Things don't always work out the way you mean them to.
The beautiful halo of light that is the horizon, moments before sunset. The light of the sunless sky, about to be plunged into dark. They say it's darkest before dawn. It works the other way, too.
Sometimes everything seems okay...
And indeed, it seemed okay.
It wasn't.
oOOOo
Sango pulled her yukata back onto her shoulders, noting all the rips and tears she'd surely have to mend. She beckoned to Kirara, who eagerly came, questioning her with wide and expressive eyes.
"Go find Kagome, and Inuyasha," her mistress said in hushed tones, "Everything is under control. Okay?"
Kirara nodded, and nuzzled her mistress's knee affectionately before Sango opened the door, and Kirara slipped out. Closing the door again, the taijiya turned to Miroku. He lay, back to her, and his breathing had slowed marginally. She smiled wistfully, crawling a little closer to him.
"Miroku..."
It felt nice to say his name. Houshi-sama, Houshi-sama, it'd always been. Would it go back to that once morning came? She fingered lightly the bandage on her shoulder, visible through where the yukata had been slashed, not quite knowing what she was supposed to want. She licked her lips, the sour taste of the antidote still lingering. Did people have tastes too? Eyes closed, she tried to imagine what the monk would taste like, but quickly stopped herself.
"Miroku... Oh, I guess he's alseep," she retreated the hand reaching for him, sighing a little, "I should be too."
A slight groan came from the monk, and he rolled over. Eyebrows furrowed in slight distress, he winced in dream, then calmed again. His hair was even more messed up than before, and sticking out in some places. One arm was outstretched, his hand centimetres from Sango's. She let out the breath she was only half-aware of holding, and shifted her hand so her fingertips brushed his.
"You're okay..."
It wasn't another disaster. He was alive. There was still a glimmer, a hope, a spark inside of him that burned. Alive. Everything around her was alive, but she had barely appreciated it. You can't be grateful for life until you've known death, but then it's usually to late. Not this time, no...
The taijiya placed her hand in his, feeling his fingers move to accept her. The azure beads lay over his palm, and the soft purple silk, behind which was the kazaana. The thought frightened her, and she didn't push on the fabric to test limits that fate would allow. She sewed her fingers into his, squeezing lightly. There was pulse, there was warmth, around the cold beads relaxing into her skin. Then tentatively, she reached over to push his hair back behind his ear.
Her hand jerked back as he stirred lightly, and she clutched it to her chest. It couldn't be erased that easily, the fear, the doubt. She didn't want to get to close, and have him be hurt again... And of all people, why would he care for her? She hadn't dreamed of marriage when she was small, like the other girls in her villiage, she aspired to slay large demons, to become strong. Love was a whole new territory.
Love. Is that what she would call it?
Indecisive, Sango began leaning down, carefully folding her right arm to rest her head on. She shifted her weigh to become somewhat comfortable, then her attentions were again focused on their hands, entertwined, together.
'He hasn't read my palm yet,' she thought with a smirk, but only held onto his hand tighter. When his hand was in hers, it couldn't grope her. And when his hand was with hers, it couldn't be with those stupid village girls that did him no good. False hopes.
'I will be your hope... Miroku.'
She closed her eyes and let herself sleep as well.
oOOOo
"There you are, ya little runt!"
Clawed fingers caught the material of Shippou's back, lifting him up to eye level. The kitsune stared tiredly at Inuyasha, then yawned.
"Kagome's been looking for you," the hanyou snorted as they began to walk, "She got real mad at me when she couldn't find you, too. Where ya been this whole night, anyway?"
"Played with..." another yawn, "Some kids..."
"They tease ya?"
"No."
"Good."
Shippou observed the older male's cold expression through heavy-lidded eyes, and couldn't quite figure it out. But in his dreary state, Shippou couldn't much care.
"Where're we going?" he mumbled, then shrieked as Inuyasha dropped him. "Aiie! What d'you do that for?"
"You can walk yourself, runt," Inuyasha rolled his shoulders, obviously stiff and a little worn from lack of sleep. Shippou scampered by and around his feet, looking up inquisitively.
"Did you and Kagome-chan get into another fight?"
"No."
"You sure?"
"Yes! It's none of your business anyways! She was just upset because..." his tone softened, "Because of Miroku. We think he's okay now. Kirara came and got us, but she didn't seem to think anything was wrong, so..."
"Is Sango okay?"
"A little heartsore, if anything," Inuyasha mumbled, "Stupid girl. You aren't supposed to fall in love with lechers." He paused, looking left, right, then sniffing the air. "This way."
A half-alseep Shippou followed him, puzzled at why Inuyasha hadn't hit him. But he knew it was most definitely not a good idea to ask. As they approached the inn, he heard his companion mutter something, but it was hidden under the roar of the crowd.
"You aren't supposed to fall in love with mikos, either..."
oOOOo
He holds death in the palm of his right hand, and it whispers to him, it whispers to him.
He does not listen.
Promises break and spill.
Play that song again.
The strings rise, a melodious cacophony hitting the air. Dance for me now, til your ankles bleed.
Searching, denying, trying.
Til you bleed
oOOOo
Kagome was leaning against a wall in the entrance room of the inn, looking rather nervously around. It was an inn, yes, but 'tavern' would've been a better description. The room consisted of a bar and a few tables, with men carousing, and some females laughing politely at their jokes. But it was warm inside, and she didn't want to freeze, waiting outside.
"Oi! Kagome!"
"Inuyasha!" her face lit up, with both enthusiasm and blush, and the hanyou approached her, Shippou in tow.
"What're you doing down here?" he asked, giving her a glare coated with accusation.
"Sango and Miroku are sleeping in the room," she said, "I didn't want to wake them. Kirara's keeping watch, though."
Inuyasha nodded gruffly, handing Shippou to her. "You should get to sleep too, we do have to head out tommorow. The brat's already beat."
"Mmm not," the kitsune muttered, feeling Kagome stroke his head softly.
"I'll head up then," she started down the hall, "Coming?"
"Yeah. In a bit." The hanyou crossed his arms, his eyes wandering over the scene before them. Kagome halted, turning back to him.
"Are you okay?"
"Keh. Why wouldn't I be?" he shook his head, "Go! I'm not gonna be carrying you tommorow if you're too tired to walk."
She gave him a smile, then nodded. "I'll see you in a bit."
To this he said nothing, watching her receeding form from the corner of his eye.
oOOOo
Run, run, far you run.
'We will not play that song again.'
Fight, fight, fight...
'We refuse to let you win.'
Ah, but I've already won.
Hope, drowning in the darkness, hope is all you have. A hand to guide you, to light the way.
'We will not play that song again.
'Hope is all we have...'
A heart so easily is played. You can be played; new actors, same script.
'Hope is all we have,
'But it is enough.'
oOOOo
Soft footsteps entered the room, and the door clicked as it slid closed. There was a muffled yawn, and a thump, followed by a hushed laugh. Sango opened one eye, craning her head to see who had entered.
"Kagome-chan..."
The schoolgirl grinned, a little mischieviously. "Sorry to wake you Sango-chan..."
Sango caught where Kagome's glance was thrown, and quickly pulled her hand away from Miroku's, a heavy blush tinging her cheeks. The monk slept soundly on, the expression on his face childish and, ironically enough, innocent. Sango avoided looking at him, propping herself up with her better arm.
"How are things?" Kagome asked quietly as she tucked Shippou into her sleeping bag.
"It was poison," the taijiya told her, "From Kohaku."
At the name, Kirara sat up, trotting over to Sango and nuzzling her legs. The cat was rewarded with a rub behind the ears, as she purred softly.
"I was able to get the antidote into him, though, so he should be fine," Sango finished, then reached over her knees to lift Kirara into her lap. The cat adjusted herself, then closed her eyes.
"I see," Kagome finished shuffling through her bag, and brought out a comb. With a giggle, she sat beside Sango.
"Just relax," the schoolgirl said, untying the ribbon that bound Sango's hair. The taijiya winced with the first brush through, but didn't say anything. She continued to rub Kirara, but her eyes always flickered back to Miroku.
"You were holding hands," Kagome said, as if reading her mind. Sango startled, blushing once more.
"It's no big deal, it's not like I'm going to go gossip with Inuyasha about it," Kagome laughed at such a thought, digging the comb through Sango's long waves of obsidian, knotted heavily with blood, sweat, and dirt.
"Is it obvious?" Sango whispered.
"I wouldn't say obvious, but there are clues," Kagome mused.
"Do you think he knows?"
She stopped combing, touching Sango's good shoulder lightly.
"Sango-chan, you like Miroku-sama, right?" The taijiya hesitated, then blushed and nodded, her expression a little distraught.
"Would you say you love him?"
Sango sighed, hugging Kirara lightly. "I don't know. What does love feel like?"
"It's different for everyone, I think," Kagome said, giving up on Sango's hair for the moment, "But I wouldn't really know either."
Kirara mewed in agreement, as Kagome slipped into the sleeping bag beside Shippou, and Sango got out a blanket, coming to rest a little further from Miroku than she'd been before. Kirara curled up under her breasts, and for a minute the room was filled with just breathing.
"Kagome-chan, in your era, what do people do when they're in love?"
"They usually get married, and have children," Kagome answered, leaning over to blow out some of the candles that lit the room.
"There's something that hasn't changed much," the taijiya muttered, closing her eyes, "Good night."
"Good night," Kagome settled, watching the door. Sango quickly fell into sleep, a hand still resting on Kirara's back, but the schoolgirl stayed awake a little longer, until the door opened once more.
"What took you so long?" she murmured, have into her pillow. The hanyou sat, tilting his head back to the cieling after glancing around.
"Nothing."
"Were they-"
"No." His eyes narrowed, "Just go to sleep. Isn't that what you came up here to do?"
She gave another smile, knowing, but not telling, and closed her eyes. Soon, only the hanyou was left awake, his thoughts scattered here and there. He rested his chin on his knees and tried to think of something nice. Like ramen. Or Kagome not yelling at him. Or eating ramen with Kagome, who wasn't yelling at him.
Funny, how in his reverie, she looked less and less like Kikyou...
If there was one thing he knew for sure, it was nothing ever came easy. Forgetting... that was hard. But forgiving is hard too... It does no good, when people forgive you, if you can't forgive yourself.
oOOOo
Sweet, hypnotic tones sprung from the back of his mind, as if his own thoughts. The voice was not forceful, but slithering, like oil, just guiding him in the direction he wanted. He knew that voice...
'Go with this woman.'
He stepped forwards, blankly, like a puppet. Words swam in his head, but none he could reach, drowning in a sea of his own empty-ness, though somehow his feet touched bottom. Or maybe he was being held up by something he could not see.
"Come on, brat," the crimson-lipped woman snapped, "We haven't got all night."
He gave her a sullen look, then sat calmly behind her on the large feather, laying his chain scyth down beside him. It seemed he'd been thinking hard about something, so hard his head had begun to hurt, pounding like it was being walked upon, but the memory was lost, if it had been there in the first place.
He didn't exactly know where they were going, but for some reason, he didn't care to ask. He didn't care much to do anything at that moment. Eyes, it felt like eyes were watching him, watching everything he did. Breath, blink, move, they saw. Did they see his thoughts as well? An eerie thought in itself, he shivered.
The thick black hair of the woman in front of him thrashed mercilessly in the wind, her muscles taut. The wind howled, as they raced through the sky. She said things to herself under her breath, glancing back at him every now and then. It was unnerving, his stare. Like he'd lost something, and couldn't even remember why he was looking.
"I'm not your enemy, kid," she said softly, "I'm just as much a prisoner as you are." Her head shook as she laughed to herself, bitterly. "But it doesn't really matter, does it?"
Naraku was known as a great manipulator, referred to by many a demon, even years into the future.
Most likely because he realized there are other ways to control puppets besides strings.
End of Chapter 6