Courage

Chapter Three: To Smile

Hooray, I have returned to celebrate Miroku's unique brand of courage! Well, what about him isn't unique, yennoe? Anyway, I don't think I have much to say other than reiterating the fact that Miroku in the real world is supposed to be the future Buddha…heehee, that's so bad of Takahashi-san, morphing a bodhisattva into a kleptomaniac pervert.

Erm, the Japanese word of the day is egao, which means "smile" (and as a bonus, I believe warau means "to smile or laugh"). Other than that, there isn't much more to say, so onward ho!

Disclaimer: Okay, class, read it with me! "N"…"O"…spells "no"! Yay! (sickeningly happy squeal) Wasn't that fun?

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The first thing he became aware of was a voice humming in a soft, aimless way. It wasn't particularly nightingale-esque, graceful, or strong. No, on the contrary, it was rather plain, breathy, and unsure. However, to his muddled ears, it sang of home and warmth.

Muddled ears? Goodness, why on earth would they be muddled?

This question made him aware of a dull ache throughout his body that soundlessly buzzed and obstructed the tuneless melody. No, that wouldn't do. He'd have to fix that, but how?

Well, perhaps he should begin with the odd darkness surrounding him. Less disjointed thoughts danced around the corners of his awareness, whispering that in his right mind, he had an easy way to fix that little flaw. Unfortunately, he couldn't remember that easy way, and his right mind wasn't returning to him very quickly. Instead, he fumbled his way through his disorderly thoughts. 'Dark…why yes, it is quite dark here. And why is it dark? Because…ah, because there's no light! And why is there no light?'

It finally clicked as his right mind began to trickle back into place. 'Ah, my eyes must be closed!' Having arrived at that conclusion, he was quite unprepared when his eyelids refused to open for him. Was something covering them, perhaps weighing them down so he would remain in the dark and be forced to strain to hear that soothing melody through the ache that was rapidly growing into pain? No, surely not.

"Ah…" Oh, was that his voice? Say, his mouth worked, why on earth didn't his eyes? More answers began to fall into place as the mind-numbing darkness began to slowly retreat. 'Oh, maybe I'm just tired.'

That, he found, was true, for an instant later, he felt his eyes slowly blink open, almost of their own accord. True, his eyelids still felt heavy, but being able to see the dimly lit ceiling of a dimly lit hut somehow brought his world into sharper focus. The humming stopped abruptly, to his disappointment. "Miroku? Oh, good, you're awake."

A familiar looking face leaned over him, a low-tied ponytail flipping behind a shoulder as the face beamed down on him. "Are you feeling better now?"

"…Sango…" And with that word, the world suddenly made sense again. He winced as the ache turned into a full-out throb that pounded throughout his body like a second heartbeat. "Where are we?"

"We're in a nearby village. Inuyasha and Shippo picked up Kagome, and he carried both of you all the way to village. He tried to get me to lean on him, but I figured from the way he was sweating that I shouldn't put any more weight on him, especially with those wounds of his."

"So…everyone's here?" It was such a strain to talk, he thought in annoyance.

"Yeah. Inuyasha and Shippo are hovering over Kagome, and Inuyasha has already terrorized three villagers for making too much noise outside of the priestess's hut. She didn't have much room to spare, so we're in the hut where she stores medicines and such." Sango nodded at the wall just beyond his feet. He directed his eyes at the wall and saw several racks of dried herbs.

"So are they're all okay?"

She smiled at him again and picked up something on the floor right next to his cheek. "Yes, we're all fine. I was getting worried about you. You collapsed out there, you know, Miroku." The something turned out to be a old but clean rag, which she used to gently mop off his forehead. "It looks like you still haven't gotten over all of that miasma."

"Yes, that'd explain the throbbing, wouldn't it?" A peculiar sensation stretched across his face; it took him a few seconds to remember what it felt like to grin.

Sango, in contrast, lost her smile at his words and instead rested a light hand on his right arm. "It really still hurts?"

"I've had worse," he murmured, shifting his arm in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture. "I'll be fine. You know very well how I'm going to die."

Her face only grew more serious. "Miroku, don't talk like that. We have time."

And with those three words she unleashed a torrent of familiar questions on his aching head. 'Time…how much time do we have? How long until my own hand sucks me into oblivion?' At this, he tightened his right hand into a fist that remained unseen inside his baggy black sleeve. 'How long before Naraku wins yet another victory against my family?'

The demon slayer kept talking, resettling herself into a cross-legged position on the floor beside him and absentmindedly tracing the bandage on her leg. "We're so close now. Naraku is getting really scared. Why else would he have sent six golems after us? It must have cost him so much effort to create and control them all, so why didn't he send his incarnates? Because he couldn't afford to lose. He couldn't afford the chance that they would desert or that we would kill them, because if we won, he would need even more power to fight us. We're getting stronger Miroku, and we have a fighting chance."

The only effect her words had was to increase the uneasy feelings bouncing around inside him. Did they truly have that chance? If they were getting stronger, it meant that Naraku was stronger as well. And always, always, the same question came back: How long? No matter where he was, one look at his gloved hand, one rattle of the beads around his wrist, one fleeting thought of how hot the gauntlet made his hand was enough to make him unsure.

Sucking demons into the Wind Tunnel: How long until I meet this same fate?

Quietly traveling on the open road: How long before all that remains of me is a crater and a few memories?

Talking with his friends on a peaceful evening: How long before I leave these peoplebehind?

Bathing in the hot springs: How long until my body vanishes into nothingness?

How long, how long, how long, it was always there. Everywhere, anywhere, every time, any time. When would he die? Would it be quick? Would he be afraid? Would it be painful? Would he have a son to carry his mission on? Would he and Sango have settled their very peculiar relationship?

Always, always, always…how long?

"I admit, I have doubts, but I believe in us all. Inuyasha is strong, Kagome is stubborn, Shippo is courageous, I'm skilled, and you're steadfast. We can make this work, Miroku."

He pulled himself out of his thoughts in time to ask with a note of amusement, "I'm steadfast? I, the flighty monk? Whatever do you mean by that?"

"You have hung on to your goal for your whole life, never wavering for a moment from your duty. No matter how many times you get yourself almost killed, you always come back." Sango's fist softly tapped her knee. "No amount of beating will get you to change your lecherous habits, and don't try protesting, because you know how hard I've tried to change them and how miserably I've failed."

Miroku had to grin at that. "But Sango, I was behaving so well before. How can you dismiss the possibility of my overcoming my bad habits when victory is just within sight?"

"Because I know that you'll look at that victory then think, 'No, no, the quest is infinitely more rewarding than the prize itself,' and with that excuse regress back into Miroku the pervert."

"Sango, you wound me. I thought you knew me well enough to realize that I would grab the prize first before regressing and selling it for a great deal more than it is worth."

Her face twisted into an amused grimace. "You're right, I should've mentioned that as well. But Miroku…" Her strong, slender fingers traced spirals on her kneecap. "Someday, I really hope that you will take the prize…and treasure it. I hope you really can find the strength to leave that behind you. I believe that someday you can."

Now this was very unusual for his normally shy Sango. "Why do you believe that?"

"Because Miroku, someday…someday soon, you won't need someone to carry on your bloodline. One day, we'll break your curse and you'll be free. When that day comes, I hope you can leave that past behind you. I hope you can be strong enough to change yourself. I know it sounds selfish," she added in a rush. "But Miroku, when I said you're steadfast, I meant it. Once we defeat Naraku…I think you would be afraid to change yourself. You've grown up one way and I want to believe that you'll be able to live another way once you're free."

He smiled reassuringly at her. "If you believe that, Sango, then I'm sure I can make it happen."

"I do believe, so I know that it will happen."

With a smile, he closed his eyes. "Maybe it will," he whispered.

'But it probably won't. Naraku probably won't go down in time. I will probably die, probably without a son to carry on this fight.'

Perhaps it would be better that way. Perhaps it would be better to end the suffering with himself. 'How long until then?' Yes, it would be better to never force his own son to live with this curse, this uncertainty. It would better to end the fight himself. So Naraku would win this battle…but his friends would surely win the real battle, would avenge him, avenge themselves, finally repay all the pain he had handed out to them all.

'How long?'

A bitter smile flickered across his face as Sango began to hum again. How long before this would be over?

A completely spontaneous thought flashed across his mind, filling him with mild self-disgust. How could he have forgotten?

He opened one eye just a slit and stifled a grin. Perfect. Her expressive magenta eyes were fixed on some distant point as her voice trilled like that of a baby bird. If he timed it carefully and kept hair-fine control…

His hand inched away from his side, moving only as quickly as he dared. There, now it was at the right angle to approach its target…

The humming stopped and Sango's eyebrows vanished under her bangs. Her face rapidly attempted to match the shade of her eyes as her jaw dropped.

He sighed happily as his still-aching arm brushed against her knee while his hand fondled a perfectly shaped bottom.

"I hope you can be strong enough to change yourself."

Her voice echoed in his ear, abruptly followed an ice-cold whisper, "How lo—"

"You gods-be-damned pervert!" Sango shrieked, halting all other thoughts with her furious war cry and equally furious backhand against his left cheek. "Honestly, whenever we have a civilized talk, you go and—agh, you'll never change, will you?"

He grinned shamelessly at her while gingerly rubbing his throbbing cheek. "There's still hope, Sango dearest."

The demon slayer scowled darkly at him and scooted out of arms' reach. "Behave, or else I'll leave right now and make Inuyasha babysit you instead. I don't think he'll enjoy being forced to leave Kagome anymore than you'll enjoy being watched by him. Now rest so you can heal and I can thrash you properly."

Miroku obediently closed his eyes, knowing that his lecherous grin would flash at her of its own accord before fading back into a peaceful, smooth expression. Every grab ended in pain, but her flawlessly constructed body made it worth it. Wouldn't it be wonderful if, one day…if one day he really could change…or if she could change, if one day she or their relationship would change just enough to accept his touch? Wouldn't it be wonderful to live to see how his life could be transformed?

'How long?'

(end)

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Wow…these are so pathetically short. I mean, five pages? Oy, not good, not good.

Speaking of not good, I don't know if I did so hot in showing that Miroku's specific type of courage is to be able to hide his own suffering behind a smile. I mean…I think I got the suffering across, but the smiling, the covering up…I really don't know if it's there. (sigh)

Anyway, I guess I'll see you again with Inuyasha's chapter: To Fly.