Thursday morning came all too awkwardly. Miroku led Sango into the dining area, wanting to serve her breakfast. He placed a dish in front of her with a loud 'bang'. Sango winced as it clashed against the table. The contents of the meal, she could not decipher. It seemed to look like some disgusting concoction of scrambled eggs and burnt bacon. Sango guessed that Miroku didn't quite have the 'cooking gene'.
She shifted around uncomfortably in her seat. Miroku wasn't even looking at her!
How dare she? This was probably the last time he'd ever get to see her, and she was trying to ruin it!
Miroku glared down at her food. "You don't mind it you eat alone, do you?"
"I…I guess not…"
"Well, good," he spoke coolly, Erik strolling into the music room and, in his rage, failed to close and lock the door. He slid down onto the bench before his organ and began to play furiously on it. He let all of his emotions flow into his music.
Why? Why had she tried to take his mask off? He had caught her before she was able to, but the betrayal of it still hurt. Didn't she understand?
His mask was the one thing that was between him and the rest of the world. It was the only protection he had against the cruelty of reality. If she saw his face, Sango would be just like everyone else—afraid of a monster.
Her words the previous night then came back to him. "You monster, I hate you!"
Yes, she would be just like everyone else, and Miroku couldn't bear it. He couldn't bear to see the fear and disgust in her eyes, as he remembered seeing in his mother's so long ago. Why had this happened to him? He had been perfectly fine all alone in his lair… why had he gone and meddled in things that were better off left alone?
He thought he heard something, but brushed it off as probably Sango's cat, Kirara. Miroku went back to playing on his organ.
xxxxx
When Miroku had left her in the room, Sango turned to say something—anything—to him so that he wouldn't be so upset, but he had shut the door in her face.
Hurt and alone, Sango decided to seek him out. She wouldn't be able to sleep well that night, knowing he was angry with her.
As quietly as she could, Sango slipped out of dining room and down the hallway. Her stomach growled lightly, but Sango just ignored it. But she was anxious that she wouldn't remember which of the doors led to the music room, but Sango found that she needn't have worried.
Miroku had apparently left the door to the music room ajar, and she could hear him pounding violently on the organ. She shuddered. This was probably a bad time, and he most likely wouldn't even listen to her. But she had to try!
Sango took a deep breath, and then walked into the room. She froze when the door creaked, but Miroku didn't look up. After a moment, she inwardly berated herself for being so jumpy. Why would it matter if Miroku knew she was here, anyway? Wasn't that what she was here for?
No. That wasn't why she was here, and she knew it. She was here because, in spite of everything, she wanted—needed—to know what was behind his mask. Her curiosity had been only encouraged when he reacted so angrily.
What was he hiding from her?
Sango cursed her curiosity and shoved it to the back of her mind. She couldn't get him even angrier than he was now! Wasn't it bad enough that she had tried to betray him… did she actually have to?
His back was still to her, and he was immersed in his music. He didn't even know she was there… This was her chance. Miroku would not realize what had happened until it was too late.
Sango took a step towards him, and then forced herself to a stop. NO! She wouldn't! She couldn't. She could only imagine his anger and hurt if she betrayed him twice. He had a reason for hiding his face—couldn't she just let him be?
Almost against her will, she took another step forward. It wasn't fair! Hadn't there been enough lies and deceit between them? Hadn't he kept enough secrets from her?
Once again, she forced herself to a halt. What was she doing? She was supposed to be making amends, not making things worse! Everyone had secrets…Miroku would show her this one when he was ready. Until then, she had to let him be, for both their sakes!
But didn't he trust her? Didn't he even love her enough to realize that she wouldn't hold what he looked like against him? She assumed that he hid the right side of his face due to some kind of deformity. Surely that's why his reaction had been so vicious.
Looks didn't matter; it was what was inside that counted! She would just have to show him that it didn't matter. If that required removing his mask… then so be it.
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Miroku slowly got more relaxed as he played. He couldn't stay mad at Sango for long. After all, she hadn't even succeeded in removing the mask.
It was natural for her to be curious about it…anyone would be. Neither of them had even mentioned it since the first time she'd seen him, but he knew she had probably wondered. Sango had probably even guessed that he was deformed—she just didn't know how badly.
She didn't understand that, because of his face, he had been beaten, scorned, laughed at, mocked… She couldn't understand that because of his face he had been forced to live underground, away from the world.
Because of his face, no one—not even his mother—had ever loved him. All of his life he had been despised and abused, simply because of his appearance.
He even hated himself for it. There was, perhaps, no one more repulsed by his face than he himself—and he had to live with it every day of his life.
Miroku was forced to live with the fact that he would never lead a normal life, that he would never have friends, or lovers. He had to live with the knowledge day by day that, when he died, no one would know… and no one would care.
And then there was Sango. Finally, there was a tiny ray of hope that a person would care for him. They hadn't had the best of starts, but he was determined to fix that. In time, she might turn into his only friend… maybe, he even dared to hope, she could come to love him.
This all hung on the balance of his mask, however. She could never see his face, or else she would be like everyone else. He had no doubt of that.
But he trusted her. Surely after his last outbreak, she wouldn't try to remove his mask again. She would know better now.
He would apologize to her in awhile. She was probably upset about his outbreak, and he didn't want her to fret about it. He thought about getting up and apologizing to her right away, but he didn't want to bother her while she was eating…or rather, not eating. He might be a genius, but Miroku knew he was disgraceful as a chef.
Confident that tomorrow they could start over again, and that for once in his life, he had the possibility of being happy, Miroku launched into a more peaceful song.
He was so absorbed in his thoughts and the music that he failed to hear Sango come up behind him.
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Sango stopped immediately behind Miroku and took a shaky breath. She was nervous, and rightfully so. There was no telling how angry he'd be after she did this.
She collected herself. There was no going back now… she had to do this. Their relationship wouldn't be able to grow at all with this secret in the way, and she knew it. She wouldn't have a chance at coming to love him unless there weren't any secrets between them.
If there was one thing Sango couldn't stand, it was lying and deceitfulness. She couldn't love Miroku until she made sure that he wouldn't lie to her again, and she couldn't care for him until she knew why he was so upset over her trying to see his face.
If he loved her as much as he said he did, he would understand that. If he cared for her, than he should have more faith in her, and not think that she would base her emotions on anything as petty as an outward appearance.
With that last thought in her mind, Sango reached forward and snatched the mask away from Miroku's face.
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A/N : Don't you just love cliffhangers? Oh, and perhaps I won't update for a week, or maybe… an entire month! Mwahaha…it all depends on you! I'm a greedy writer, I admit it. I need reviews! Or else…say hello to my little friend, hiatus!