Disclaimer: I do not own. However, I have attempted to steal Inuyasha multiple times, although each attempt ended in me being sprawled against the floor surronded by very scary looking security guards and one p-oed old lady. (No offense to Takahashi... don't worry, she's my Idol too.)
By the way, I am Tetsuna. Or, at least, I used to be. Me and the original Tetsuna broke off. She started to get annoying. By the way, I'm the Tetsuna who wrote all the stories. She just hung out. Okay. Now time for the story.
The crisp morning wind bit into their faces, tingling the skin and mingling with the sweat.
The laughter rang through the air as two children, no older than eight, played in the palace gardens, making enough noise to wake up the roosters: it was six o'clock in the morning. Spinning around, Sango carefully steadied herself before sighing and exclaiming,
"Isn't it beautiful, Miro-kun?"
It was. The sun was barely peeking up from the trees, greeting them with its welcoming bright light, showering them with even more childish joy than they already had.
Her smile brightened her face almost as much as the sun did, the curious chocolate eyes peeking up, almost cross-eyed, at the bright orb in the sky.
"Yea. It looks nice."
He wasn't even paying attention. He was still searching in the bushes for the ball that they had tossed around earlier, his brow furrowed as he scratched through the shrubs for a sign of the bright blue object.
She placed her hands on her teeny hips, pouting. "You didn't even look. Just look, just for a second, before it goes away."
Sighing, he got to his feet, and lifted his eyes. They widened: the sight was breathtaking. Every drop of dew on the ground seemed to glow from its sheen, every flower petal in the vast palace gardens danced with its slow, invisible movement. It was the harmony of nature: nature's song. He sighed, then closed his eyes in content, before turning to the bushes again.
"Well? What did you think? Wasn't it won-der-ful?" she said, all smiles.
"It was nice." He breathed, before emitting a small squeal of happiness, lifting up his blue ball. "Yay, I found it!"
Sango's eyes narrowed. "You care more about a ball than the sunrise? You're weird, Miro-kun."
She laughed, and he laughed. Those were the good times… when they were young and ignorant of all the tragedies of the world…
Except one, of course. Miroku's parents were good, strong friends of Sango's: both were rulers of their separate kingdoms, but loved each other to death. So when a horrible fire destroyed their beautiful palace, Miroku and his parents came to live with them.
At first, Sango disapproved. She was at the age when boys were 'icky' and had cooties… two. Unfortunately for her, he had come to stay, and there was nothing she could do about it. She kicked and screamed and spat, but for once in her life, she didn't get what she wanted.
Strangely enough, with his violet eyes and his gentle demeanor, he managed to win her over.
flashback
"Why are you crying, Princess Sango?" His innocent violet eyes searched into her own red, dripping ones.
"It's because of you! You shouldn't be here! Go AWAY and leave me and my mommy and daddy alone! Go back to your own home!" She banged her fists and wailed, but his expression stayed the same, full of concern.
"I don't have a home anymore, Princess Sango."
She stopped crying, rubbing her eyes as she looked up at him, puzzled. "What? Of course you have a house. You have a mommy and daddy, so you must have a home!"
He shook his head sadly. She wiped her eyes again. "Then you can stay here, I guess. Until you get a house, but no longer, okay? And I guess you can play with my toys, but if you break even one of my dollies, I'll hurt you bad."
He smiled, then gave her a big bear hug.
"Thank you, Princess Sango. That'll make it a lot better."
end flashback
From that time on, they were inseparable. So when the palace was rebuilt, the parting was bitter. They screamed and cried and pouted, a pair of little children no older than seven… mourning over the loss of their best friend.
0o0o000o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
"Sango! The servants say you refuse to get dressed! It is so, is it not? Don't you want to meet your fiancé?"
Sango rolled her eyes, propping her head on her hands. "Do you want me to answer that?" she yelled back, her dark, long hair swinging in front of her eyes. Myake, her nurse, laughed.
"Sango, you are going to get in so much trouble if her majesty finds you like this, you are aware of that, aren't you?"
Sango sighed, spinning to the other side of the room in nothing but the bandage-like underwear, before collapsing on her silk sheets.
"Yea, I'm aware of that. But frankly, I don't care."
Wringing around in them, she nuzzled into their softness before casting them away and pulling her oldest, most faded red and gold ukata over her head. She had saved it from being burned not long before, and now she tied her obi loosely on one hip, not caring how awful she looked.
"Sango-sama, you look a mess. Please… your suitor is waiting for you. Don't be ornery; look presentable. Here… let me fix your obi…"
"No. Leave it be," was the reply.
Grabbing a brush, she pulled it through her stream of never-ending hair that, as a princess, she was required to have. She spied her sword in the closet, and then sighed. If she had her way, she would have grabbed it and done away with at least half of the hair. It was nothing more than a nuisance, anyway. She looked over at Myake jealously. Her hair didn't go much further than her shoulders.
Someone rapped hard on her door. Ignoring it, Sango spun over to the mirror, pulling her hair out of her eyes. Then, grabbing the sword, she flung it to one side, murmuring under her breath, "Why did they teach me how to yield this thing… what self-defense could I possibly need? They'll never let me go out and fight on my own…" She aimed at a wood carving by her bed, slicing a small shave from its face.
She sensed Myake behind her, uncertainly shifting.
Grinning, she placed her sword down, then picked up her favorite weapon, the Hiraikotsu, her famous enormous boomerang. Swinging it over her head a few times, she slashed across the wooden carving, knocking its head to the ground with a heavy thud. "Sango!" Myake cringed, watching her mutilate the artifact.
Sango shrugged it off, not really caring. It was ugly, anyway.
The rapping continued, turning into firm, rhythmic knocks.
A voice penetrated through the door, a male one, this time.
"Um…excuse me, Princess Sango? Would you mind if I…came in?"
She pouted, then, adjusting her ukata, opened the door slightly and stuck her head through the space.
"I apologize, sir," she ratted off, not even bothering to look at him, "but I do not believe it is fit for you to intrude my privacy while I'm trying to change."
He blushed red, murmuring, "Oh, I'm sorry," and "I didn't mean— it" but she had turned deaf ears to him, and shut the door.
Smiling once more, she removed her ukata and stayed true to her word, folding it neatly and placing it in her hiding place, in the space between the dresser and the wall. If her mother ever found it… she grimaced. All she ever talked about was how un-royal she acted, how unfit it was for a princess to do all the things she loved. How she wished she could leave the place… be nothing more than a normal citizen… for just one day. Sighing, she pulled on the first layer of the kimono, allowing Myake to adjust it for her.
"You know, Myake," she said, "I didn't really bother to look at him. My fiancé… is he handsome?"
Myake smiled, her cheeks radiating with heat. "Hai," she whispered. "He looks like a reincarnate of Apollo…(A/N: Ancient Greek god, but you probably already knew that.)"
Sango softened, continuing. "And his character?"
Myake slowly pulled her obi over her waist, tying it tight behind her back, making Sango jerk up.
"He is the perfect gentleman, a wonderful sight for the eyes, and a person worth knowing. You are a lucky woman, Sango."
Sango smiled as well; the report was good. "His name?"
Myake pulled an intricate accessory through Sango's hair, but she swapped it away with her hand, instead tying it at the base.
"Hiroki-san."
"Describe him."
"Dark brown hair, long (the hair), blue eyes, a fine countenance, strong stature. Only downside… he's incredibly shy for royalty."
"Arigato gozaimasu, Myake-chan. Could you hand me my tabi?"
She handed her the 'kimono-socks,' earning a quick 'arigato' back.
"And my zoori?"
She slipped the slippers onto her feet, then stood, steadying herself.
"Okay. I'm ready."
Myake held on to her hand, smiling at Sango, before whispering, "Make him feel good. Don't be arrogant or ornery, Sango-chan. I know you don't want this, but he has no idea what he's getting himself into either. Please be kind to him… please."
Sango smiled, then squeezed her friend's hand tightly, before releasing it.
"I promise," she whispered, "on my life. You are the one who deserves him, if he's as great as you say he is…"
Myake blushed a deep red before hastily replying, "Hime, please, do not say such things…"
"Why not?"
"They're not true. You are perfect for each other, I declare."
"We are not. I do not want a perfect gentleman for a husband; he'll only make me feel more faulty than I already do. I want someone slightly rough-around-the-edges, so that we can both smooth ourselves out together."
Groaning, Myake quickly retied Sango's obi, then snapped, "Don't say that. Now, off with you."
She pushed her lightly towards the door and winked, a glimmer of sadness visible in her eyes as she did so. "Hime?" she whispered.
"Hm?"
"When you're off in this new kingdom, could you, well… not forget about me? Please?"
Sango smiled, her eyes shining. "May I lie in an eternal swoon if I do, Myake-chan."
They both grinned at each other. Opening the door, she shut it carefully behind her.
"Oji?" (A/N: I hate having to do the dictionary stuff at the end of each chapter, it takes too much time. Oji means prince, and almost everything in hear with a parenthesis will have a definition in it. Thank you, and sorry for once more interrupting the story.)
He came from his hiding place, his long, brown hair delicately framing his forehead. He was exactly as Myake had described him, ethereally handsome, something like an angel.
"Hai. It's nice to be of your acquaintance, Hime-chan."
"And me yours, though I doubt you shall ever attempt to intrude my privacy again."
He blushed at the previous encounter although she was only teasing. Seeing it, she smiled in satisfaction, then let him take her arm.
0o0o0oo0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0oo0oo0o
By nightfall, Sango knew that she was in love.
Or at least she thought.
He was so delicate, so wonderful… he treated her with a warm kind of respect, not the kind that has a tint of reluctance that she received from servants. At dinnertime he did not wolf down his food like a rabid tiger as the other men did, but ate slowly and neatly. He spoke sincerely, and did not boast as all her previous suitors had done before.
They parted cheerfully, and the only thing on Sango's mind as she floated back to her room was the thought of their betrothal…
"Ara, Myake, I feel very strange…" she whispered as she twirled into her room, tossing the first layer of her kimono into the air.
Myake walked over to her, worried. "Oh no, Hime-chan. Don't tell me that you are sick!"
Sango bit her lip, her cheeks glowing pink. "Sorry, Myake. I can't say. I don't know… my stomach is twirling and swirling, and my head feels as though it has been filled with helium, but… strangely enough… I've never felt better than I do right now. Is this some sort of strange fever? This sensation I am feeling… is it the mark of the beginning of my death?"
Myake smiled, placing her cold hands on Sango's forehead. "It's not a fever, Sango, no need to worry. I think that you are simply… in love."
Sango blinked twice, then laughed out loud.
"You're joking. I am not in love. No, no… I can't be. This man… this man is far too perfect for me. Like I said, I want someone a little… rougher-around-the-edges. I want to be his sandpaper, and he mine."
Myake smiled, winding Sango's hair up as she continued to shed the kimono layers, finally reaching the last one. As though she were practicing, she steadied herself in the mirror, and slowly removed the layer, studying herself carefully. The body wrap that served as her underwear was wound tightly over her, revealing the curves on contours on her body that were normally hidden under the dozen layers of her palace kimono. She breathed in slowly as the drops of sweat on her arms and stomach met the cool air of the room, tingling her skin.
"Myake," she whispered, "Let me dismiss you for the night. I have to… contemplate on things…"
Myake smiled brightly, then held Sango's hands in her own, her light blush barely visible in the dark light. "Sleep well, Sango-donno," she whispered, before setting out of the room.
But sleeping was out of question. Her mind buzzed with thoughts of living with Hiroki, eating with Hiroki, napping with Hiroki, dancing with Hiroki…. Anything one could possibly imagine, she was thinking of doing with him. Her heart was pounding, sending blood up to her face and ears, then down to her legs and the pit of her belly until she was hot all over. Suddenly, a voice broke the silence of the night, just outside her room.
"B-but… what about Hime?"
Sango jolted, that voice… it had to be Myake's. She listened on.
"I only see you right now, Myake," came another voice, a male's… she gasped now, in horror. That was Hiroki-san's voice. It could be no one else's. Why was he talking to her so warmly, not following up Myake with a –san or –chan, or even a –kun? There were muffling sounds following…
The tears had already began to flow down her cheeks before she managed to even guess what was going on. Grabbing the nearest ukata from her closet, she wrapped it precariously about her, tying the obi on tightly, then pushed open her door. Expecting to see them right before her, she swore quietly when she realized they weren't. She turned around; it was dark in the corridors, preventing her from seeing much more than dark shadows. But the muffling sounds were getting louder…
Realizing that she would not want to catch Myake looking like a slob, she ran back inside her chamber, throwing off the ukata and using the fine cloth to wipe the tears from her face. Slowly pulling on a single kimono layer, she grabbed the main layer and followed it up with it, then ran inside her storage room and pulled out a lantern. It was unlit, unfortunately. But she didn't waver, but rather cooed softly.
A tiny kitten with wide reddish eyes meandered over to her, nudging her hand gently with her head. Sango's eyes softened slightly.
"Kirara," she whispered, "I need fire."
As though granting her wish, the cat disappeared in a ball of fire, successfully lighting the lantern. A moment later, the mewing kitten appeared on the floor again, her twin tails floating in the air.
"Good. Arigauto, Kirara. Go back to sleep… I meant not to wake you."
She slinked around the corridor and disappeared.
Sango turned her head in determination, preparing her heart for the next ordeal. She pushed the door slowly, praying that it would make no sound. It did not. She lifted her feet from her geta, lest they too make a sound, leaving them by her door as she snuck through the halls, her tabi proving an adequate cushioning between her feet and the hard floor. The muffling sounds were growing louder yet, followed by slow, agonizing moans…
Her fingers lightly touched the wall, and then she turned, gasping.
A single word repeated in her head. No. No. No…
The sight burned her eyes more than any fire could. Her lantern, as though on cue, flickered out, and then slipped from her hands, crashing to the floor, the metal clanging. Had her conscience not been retained, Sango was sure she would have stayed still in horror. She had no idea what convinced her to move her legs and run… but they did. She slipped through the halls like a zombie, her eyes wide and her face pale, and then finally shut the door behind her. That was it. She could take no more.
Her heart was breaking, and the one person who could probably comfort her was the cause of her troubles. Cursing them both under her breath, she let her tears flow freely. That was the last straw. Slowly, sobbing, she reached into her closet and pulled out her sword, then held it out before her. A weak smile penetrated her tears as she thought of how easy it would be to end her misery right then. The blade glistened, and she stared at her reflection.
All she saw was a pale, cold looking face, bleached with horror and grief.
Okay. Please review so that I can know how well I did.