Metropolis
It's the same morning- but a different location. The lives of two very similar people share the timeline of a new day; their distance is spread across by a scape of commercial lots and residential towers. Although they don't acknowledge it, their lives are a contrasting factor and yet correspond with one another. The city provides a complex web of individuals and lifestyles, all contrasting with a number of others. Within, a particular thread is caught between the lives of two- a single thread consisting of two individuals, one on either end.
In the scheme of reality, these people should stay at their ends of the string. Their contrasting lifestyles should keep them pulled apart- separate. This is how the city works, its core purpose toward providing a balance between the contrasts. The city works as a physical harbourer of intricate existences, with other physical manifestations working beside.
Surely this mechanical algorithm could not be persecuted. Without the assistance of some divine entity, this cycle would be an impossible task for any human to achieve. So how is it, individuals with such contrasting lifestyles, are able to correspond? Their opposing ends of thread have become entwined to the extent that they have been tied together- living practically side by side.
By the city's functions- it is an improbable occurrence which serves no mechanical purpose. Contrasts in lifestyles pull away from each other and drive the city forward. If the contrasts correspond, they become pointless. They are now corresponding, and not contrasting at all. They serve no purpose as contrasting individuals.
Somehow, both contrasting and corresponding. It's the same morning, but a different location.
A suburban crawl of semi-sematic traffic conditions, as well as the chattering of several different social groups, tune into the wavelength of the restless. This hour was made for the youth, although not completely agreeing with their sleeping schedules, their bright faced-blurry eyed appearances hummed along with the wakening dawn of the day. Students, workers, and alike taken to the streets in every logical form of transport imaginable.
The restless, as labelled, were those who lay awake begging for the hours to wind back into the night. Of them arose Inuyasha, a man of senior status- at least in high school terminology. This hum of early morning noise was a frequent to his carefully tuned hearing: delivery trucks, school busses, groups of pre-pubescent teenagers, the occasional wolf-whistle and slam of breaks.
Although not willing to arise from the comfort of his futon, Inuyasha wasn't bothered about the time of day. His mind was focussed solely on recalling recent dreams, an activity he revised often. With vision on the ceiling and his lips slightly parted, Inuyasha would continue to lay there deep in thought.
As the hired bus pulled in, Kagome gave a smile to Miroku. "I'll be back in two days. If I'm not, the will is on my desk- signed and stamped." She widened the corners of her mouth, adding a devious shadow to her playful goodbye. Miroku had always admired Kagome's sense of humour, although she didn't always share his views, the both respected each other in their own fortes. He heaved a loyal wave and watched as the bus manoeuvred into drive.
"See you soon!" Sango shouted- her hands cupped each side of her mouth. Even if the sound were to reach Kagome, the vehicle's loud mechanics would distort the message completely- but the sentiment remained.
Miroku grinned at her presentation, his confidence boosted by her friendly farewell. "What about a coffee?" he suggested. Sango declined, "I much more of a tea person."
His face soured into a pout; however, he was persistent to hint onward at the hope of a date. "Tea then?" The woman shook her head, as if prepared for his follow-up attempt; she took out a flask from her handbag. Shaking the object gently in Miroku's direction, she gave a laugh.
Although disappointed, the adorable positioning of Sango's face lifted his spirits. "At least let me see you home." Sango peered over her shoulder to the monk behind her, "My car." She bartered. "Is that your final offer?" Miroku sung back playfully, following the woman in her footsteps back through the park.
She nodded, "That's my final offer."
The walk to Sango's neighbourhood was surprisingly quiet. It had a calming, lulled effect- adding peacefulness to the serenity of the views they passed. Although unexpected, nothing about it was uncomfortable.
The route made its way around an unfamiliar corner for most central city residents. The neighbourhood itself was accessible via main rails and bus stops; however a more enjoyable pedestrian pathway existed- hidden away from urban hustle.
As they drew closer to the destination, Miroku voiced a wandering thought. "What are your clients like today?"
Sango's reply was immediate, as if she'd discussed it multiple times already. "High school third years."
Not giving him much to go off of, Miroku responded with a cocked brow. "Sounds… busy?" He wasn't wrong, but his perception had thrown him far away from the truth. How would a bunch of teenagers benefit by Sango's talents of the supernatural, he thought.
His previous attempts of prying into her social life had proved fruitless; Miroku accepted the vagueness of Sango's answer and refrained from thinking on it any further. When they arrived at her carport, he exchanged a friendly goodbye- wishing her luck with the day's events.
Sango was left anxious, offended at the monks level of seeming disinterest. She quickly hopped into the driver's seat, and started up her car's engine. Without a moment of thought, backing it up onto the road, she soon caught up to Miroku. The passenger's window at ready (rolled down) Sango took her eyes away from the road to meet with Miroku's figure.
He looked dismissive, a miserable expression plastered upon his usually saintly face. It didn't match up. A moment ago, the man was gleaming with a radiant ambience. And now it seemed he was an entirely different person.
Although she had perceived disinterest in his goodbye, she knew at heart his personality could never be that cruel toward her. The Miroku she knew held even a cheerful resting face, many of the countless qualities she admired with affection. Compared to the neutral faces of those who walked past, the monks face held a strong impudence of sadness. Although it flustered her to conject, she couldn't help observe.
She was perplexed and worried- a nurturing instinct to pull over and grab a hold of him, allowing the letting go of pain harboured within. She could feel her chest tighten, a wave of guilt flooding her mind as she accepted the situation. Her responsibility called, and she continued driving forward en route to Kagome's campsite.
AN: Ayyeee, and as promised another chapter was posted. Which means I must have finished one,,, or slightly kind of finished one? Need to proof read... and add to... Regardless, its a good enough excuse. Anyways, if you read this far congratulations and look forward to more fun. Feel free to spur me on with encouragement by leaving little comments in the reviews. Or write really terrible shit- either way!