Evanescent
By: HalcyonMoments11
Evergreens in a dream of an island town,
Draw a line in the sand and we'll smooth it down.
Will your side win, get to the middle?
Count them off one at a time
And we'll try to guess right.
Waking in the white sun, lights out;
Waiting through the days in, nights out.
It's a slow cinnamon summer;
Your spell is pulling me under.
-Jome (Cinnamon)
Miroku can't remember a time he's woken up feeling more rested. He's aware of the softness first, of the futon beneath him and the blanket woven around his limbs so vastly different than the mats they often slept on in their travels. As his eyes flutter open to the muted forelight of dawn he becomes aware of the warmth next, of the way parts of him feel weighted down by a source that practically radiates heat against the damp coolness of the early morning that has seeped through the shoji screens of their room with the dawn.
He glances down, finding a head of raven locks resting on his chest, a stretch of creamy skin reaching free from her yukata sleeve to wrap around his waist, legs tangled thoroughly with his own, their blankets and yukatas both uncomfortably and yet delightfully twisted and pulled to odd angles around them. The sight of her tucked and unraveled against him immediately has his heart in his throat, thundering in his ears.
He forces himself to breathe, to will the heat pooling low in his stomach to fade. His fingers curl into the fabric of her yukata instinctively, causing her to stir.
She nuzzles into him before her face turns up to his, eyes still closed, breathing steady, and there is something delicate and endearing in the motion that unfurls across his skin not unlike the heat of her reiki.
This is a scene he's certain he couldn't have imagined into being: his beautiful miko companion in his arms—perhaps more clothed than any fantasy he'd never admit to—the quiet, comfortable ease with which her body is slotted against and around his, the absentminded ways his body responds to the small shifts of hers. Watching her sleep in the early morning light, he knows somehow that a life like this and the evening prior with her—perhaps in another life, another time—could be tranquil, effortless.
He shifts to carefully brush her too-long bangs away from her eyes, and her azure orbs flutter open as he does, gaze sleepily meeting his. She takes in the moment slowly, and he sees the moment of recognition of their proximity and tangled limbs as it draws a pretty flush to her cheeks; pressed so close to him, he feels the way it tenses her muscles in her arms, her legs, her back.
"Ohayō," he whispers, as if she were a trapped cat readying itself to spring.
"G-good morning," she stutters back quietly, quickly turning her gaze away from his as she gradually draws herself back and away from him until her head is perched on his shoulder and her hand has replaced her head on his bare chest, an action that only seems to make her blush harder. He is reluctant to loosen his hold around her waist.
The houshi turns his head slightly to follow her movements so that when she looks up again, his violet eyes are already on her. He offers her a lazy smile that she returns shyly.
"Ohayō," he says again, warmer than before.
"You said that already," Kagome responds, her voice just barely above a whisper.
Miroku chuckles and says: "I did. Apologies you… have me at a loss for words."
She huffs a laugh, the faint lines of a genuine smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she carefully shakes her head, still resting on his bicep. Her fingers thread carefully through his as he brings his hand up to settle on top of hers where it still rests on his chest. The action is slow, almost instinctual.
"That's a rarity," she replies.
"Ano… I certainly never imagined I may happen into a moment like this with you."
Before the miko can muster a response, there's a knock at the door. In the next moment, Kagome is a red-faced flurry of movement, limbs clumsily and hastily detracting themselves from his, haphazardly throwing herself out of the blankets, and hurling herself up and across him and off of the futon to stumble into the changing room.
Miroku sits up slowly, gasping out permission to enter following the second series of knocks at the door, and nursing multiple areas where Kagome's stray elbows and knees had knocked the air out of him in her retreat. He pulls his yukata into some semblance of decency as Kaito enters, all the while convincing himself that the weight settling in his chest is not disappointment, and certainly not resentment towards the young man for what could absolutely not be considered an interruption.
Kagome knows she should pay closer attention to Kaito's descriptions of the sectors of Mizukagami. She knows she should listen more closely to the stories he shares about the sea dragon youkai who had historically ravaged Mizukagami and had recently attacked the jōkamachi. She knows she should not be as distracted and flustered as she is by the houshi pursuing his usual coquettish actions as he flirts with the village women they encounter, offering to read their palms, shamelessly declaring how unfortunate it is that they had husbands, or that his time in Mizukagami is limited. And she knows she should be more aware of how her anger and flustered state shows on her face, in the way her shoulders and posture stiffens as he casts a brilliant smile in the direction of a newcomer, but really, what is he thinking?!
She glowers as the small group of women around him jostle each other to offer their hand to the monk for another palm reading, crossing her arms across her chest disapprovingly with a huff.
"Um… Miko-sama?"
Kagome startles and blinks owlishly as she turns her attention back to the young man beside her, humming a response.
"Would you like me to say something?" Kaito asks softly, nodding his head in Miroku's direction, a subtle reproachfulness lining his features.
Eyes widening, Kagome waves her hands in front of her dismissively with a nervous chuckle. "Oh, no, no, Kaito-san, that won't be necessary!
Kaito watches her carefully for a moment with his piercing gray eyes, to which Kagome offers him the most endearing smile she can muster.
"If you're certain?"
"Oh, I am! You're very kind Kaito-san, but Miroku-sama's—" Kagome glances back over her shoulder where Miroku is still surrounded by village women. He looks up as she does, as if he had sensed her talking about him, his amethyst orbs finding her azure gaze over the heads of the young women and through the bustling street with ease. The practiced charm of his smile falters slightly as he does, his features softening into something that is almost fond.
The expression takes her back to earlier that morning, to fingers gently brushing her too-long bangs out of her eyes as she blinks blearily up at him from where she lay with her head on his chest, limbs and blankets a tangled mess between them. In the soft, early, dawn light filtering through the shoji screen doors and walls there is something tender, affectionate in the way his other arm remains curved around her waist, fingers twisted in the fabric of her yukata, in the slight curve of his lips, the small smile lines around his eyes.
There's something in his gaze here—in the middle of the bustling streets of Mizukagami, in the bright sun of a late summer morning, countering all the ways she has tried to convince herself that she had only dreamed that moment—that feels the same, something she's not sure she was entirely meant to see, but it sets her heart pounding just the same. She feels the tension in her limbs fade, something like butterflies inexplicably fluttering in her stomach, in her chest as she turns her attention back to their guide.
"H-he's harmless," she adds, hoping it doesn't sound as breathless as she feels.
Kaito nods, and she knows his sharp gaze sees more than she'd hoped in the way he casts his gaze up and down her once, as if deliberating on her response.
Before he can say anything else, Miroku returns to them with an apologetic smile, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. He ignores the reproachful glare Kagome casts in his direction.
"Apologies, Kaito-san, Kagome-sama. It seems word of good fortune travels quickly, and I got swept up in the flourish of this lovely jōkamachi."
"Hai, we certainly need it," Kaito notes, giving Kagome pause despite the retort and scolding perched on the tip of her tongue. "As I was just telling Kagome-sama, we fear another attack from the wani may soon be forthcoming, and if it's anything like their most recent attack a few months ago, we fear the devastation it could bring Mizukagami. Hence, the reason we petitioned your aid, Houshi-sama."
Kagome's azure gaze tears away from Miroku, surprised by Kaito's use of her name rather than his usual 'Miko-sama,' especially in contrast to his continued use of 'Houshi-sama'. She sees in her periphery her houshi companion's own nonplussed response in the way his eyebrows raise curiously, smile faltering slightly; the change in demeanor disappears quickly.
"Ah, that would explain the damages and repairs some of these lovely ladies were referencing," Miroku gestures over his shoulder where he had just been surrounded by village women. Kagome rolls her eyes at his attempt to pass off his philandering as anything but what it was; she hopes he sees.
"Might we survey the damaged sector of Mizukagami?"
Kaito nods briefly, then looks up at the sky, gauging the sun. "I'll be happy to lead you there, though we will likely not be able to access all of the damaged sector given the tide and the time needed to return to the shiro for your dinner with the daimyo."
Miroku smiles amiably and gestures for Kaito to lead the way. "Arigato, Kaito-san."
With a huff Kagome falls into step beside the houshi as they turn to follow their guide through the streets of the small city once more. Several minutes pass before Miroku turns his violet gaze on her, all innocence and nonchalance as he bumps his shoulder against hers almost playfully. By this time, Kagome's annoyance is practically radiating off her in waves.
"Is something wrong, Kagome-sama?"
The miko takes a breath and steadies herself, refusing to meet his gaze.
"You mean besides you pursuing your usual lecherous antics with the village women? Nothing at all."
He makes an effort to appear offended by her accusation, which she sees only from her periphery.
"I was simply and humbly offering my services to the kind people of this jōkamachi, who were in desperate need of some good fortune."
Kagome scoffs, finally turning her azure gaze to his violet with a look of incredulity.
"I hardly believe palm reading can bring any of them the good fortune you claim. Besides, I know you, Miroku-sama; the only thoughts driving your actions were wanton and lewd."
"You don't believe in the power of a fortune reading?" Miroku asks, clearly choosing to ignore the later part of her comment.
Kagome rolls her eyes and shakes her head, turning her eyes back to the path Kaito was carving through the crowded streets of Mizukagami a few paces ahead of them. "It's superstitious nonsense," she states quietly.
She eyes him wearily when his hand catches her wrist, drawing her attention back to him. "I can't believe I've not yet had the pleasure of reading your palm," the houshi says, a fetching smile gracing his features.
It takes effort to keep her steps steady as he turns her hand over in his, long fingers delicately spreading out from the center of her palm to push her hand open; when he calls his reiki to his fingertips—bringing with it the tingling, electrifying heat she has come to associate with his reiki—her breath hitches. He sees; she knows he does by the slightly teasing, almost curious tilt of his head.
And for a split second she wonders if he does this to all the women for which he offers to read their palms, and if he does, could she really blame them for drawing to him like moths to a flame? Something hot and heavy like envy threads itself through her chest, coils around her lungs and tugs at the thought. Surely, she's not jealous?
"If you wanted me to read your palm, all you need do was ask."
She recognizes the mischievous twinkle in his amethyst orbs as one she has seen countless times before, and she's reminded of a flirtatious moment between them in a small village marketplace not long ago, of an early morning training session with bodies pressed close, moments when he gave chase and she toyed with the idea of letting him, of pushing boundaries they'd long since established for each other.
"You're not even a little tempted?"
Kagome feels her cheeks flush as she yanks her hand out of his quickly and puts a step of space between them, stuttering, "T-this isn't about me!"
She takes a breath, hoping to calm the nerves that have seemingly held onto the hum that settles into her skin each time his ki flushes against hers, a frazzled, breathless reaction she still can't quite control despite months of practice and years of exposure.
"I mean, really, we're away from Sango-chan for one day and this is what you resort to?! Do you think she'd approve?" Her voice is a harsh whisper, but she's not sure its abrasiveness is entirely for him.
Miroku doesn't look away as he chuckles wryly in response, "I do many things I don't think Sango-chan would approve of."
"That's not an excuse to—"
"Like waking up entangled with you this morning, for example."
Remembering to breathe is hard and this time she practically stumbles in her effort to keep pace. She tears her gaze away from his in an attempt to steady herself. The space between them feels charged with something hot and jittery and grasping, like they're on the verge of something both overwhelming and enthralling, daring them to fill the space between them with anything and everything they can—reiki, words, bodies and breath. There's an intent in his violet hues she can't quite place, but it feels irrevocably alluring, precarious, unpredictable.
She wants to say don't look at me like that, but she doesn't have an answer to the question that bubbles up inside her, to his inevitable reply: like what?
Before she can muster a response, they follow Kaito around a bend at the edge of the jōkamachi where the ocean breeze picks up and the damage from the previous wani's attack comes into view. As her cobalt gaze turns onto the sight before them she finds herself speechless in an entirely different way.
The damage extends over what could be a third of Mizukagami. At the outer edge of the damage, she sees the efforts the city's occupants have made to repair and replace, to remain. At its center is a gaping hole filled with the rising tide, shattered and splintered wood stretching out into the empty space at odd junctures, reaching for teethers to structures long washed out to sea.
Her hand covers her mouth as she breathes out a shaky breath, awed by the knowledge of the size and power of the attack that leveled such a large portion of the jōkamachi despite its outer-most barrier, by the death that must had occurred in its wake.
Kaito is watching her with a soft, melancholy expression when she turns her gaze to their grey-eyed guide. She feels a steadying hand settle at the small of her back and she leans into it without thinking.
"Where would you like to begin?" Kaito asks them, voice quiet, solemn, and carried away on the ocean breeze.
A/N: So, so sorry for the delayed update; the end of the semester took a bit more out of me than I expected. I broke up my plans for this chapter a bit so that you could hopefully get a faster update (for both this chapter and the next). I hope you enjoyed it!
Vocabulary: jōkamachi - a type of urban structure in Japan in which the city surrounds a feudal lord's castle; houshi – monk; miko – priestess; shiro – castle; hanyou – half demon; minka – traditional Japanese houses; hakama – divided, pleated trousers; engawa – porch that surrounds much of the building and connects rooms; ohayō – good morning; wani - sea monsters; arigato – thank you; daimyo - feudal lord/lady, often wealthy;
