InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ First Year: A Wedding Gift ❯ Plotting ( Chapter 1 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Whattown 
In the wake of Naraku's death, Miroku has big plans.
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Adventure | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 01.19.2012 | Pages: 4 | Words: 4.6K | Visits: 590 | Status: Completed
In the wake of Naraku's death, Miroku has big plans.
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Adventure | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 01.19.2012 | Pages: 4 | Words: 4.6K | Visits: 590 | Status: Completed
A Wedding Gift
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters
This is a divergence/continuation and takes place after chapter 557
A young woman walked through an isolated village in lower Musashi. She was headed to a crowded hut as the sun was setting on a settling down town. Carpenters were packing up their tools, farmers were trudging from the rice paddies, mothers were calling in their children and lanterns were being lit.
Watching all this, Sango longed for a home.
She currently had no home to speak of and was staying with the elderly Miko who in turn was staying with a neighbor woman and her three children. The six of them and the Miko’s other four companions, a monk, a kitsune, a little girl and an older boy made for quite a squeeze in single roomed hut. Occasionally a Hanyou could be spotted on the roof completing its look of a stuffed crate.
It was an uncomfortable wait while the Miko Kaede’s own home was being rebuilt, destroyed by one serious youkai attack.
Sango arrived at the neighbor, Ohama’s house but couldn’t bring herself to actually enter. The screams of children and loud clanging stopped her. The door hanging was practically bursting from all the people. Instead Sango went to the back and stared in to the drop off of trees and forest the house abutted.
She hummed thinking it was the first quiet time she’s had in the ten days since the final battle. The first three had been a stressful blur keeping watch over a patch of dirt waiting for something, someone to show up. While the next week was spent cleaning up damage made by the shouki and tracking down small vermin youkai attracted by all the jyaki still lingering around.
“May I join you?” the sun was almost set making Miroku look like a shadowed and cloaked figure but his voice was warm and lingered in the cool air.
“Sure,” Sango smiled at her beloved fiancé. Her back was pressed against the rear of the ruckus hut. The Monk mirrored her, his upper arm held along hers.
They stood in silence and Sango felt a rising tension, that kinetic energy that bounced between the two when alone. It set the taijiya on fire. It was that exultancy of being with the person you loved and knowing they loved you back.
Sango noticed, for her at least that the feeling had grown substantially since the ramp down. It can happen when obstacles like imminent death are removed from your relationship.
The energy bloomed to chaotic levels when the monk held her hand and in return she rested her head on his shoulder.
The silence was broken when from the abode behind them came a loud bump against the wall and the laughter of children.
“We should go back inside but …” Shrills of kids were being talked over by a stern woman’s booming voice. “It’s so loud.” Sango’s voice was humorous but had a ragged edge to it.
“We’ll simply wait out the storm, the children have to sleep sometime” He sounded so calm as if the last ten days spent in a stuffed cabin with three rambunctious children (Ohama’s two youngest and Rin) aided by a kitsune prankster hadn’t affected him at all. But given he woke up this morning to animated wooden snakes slithering around his face and a chorus of giggling children. Sango was sure it was bothering him.
“Shippo certainly likes being around all those kids, huh?” Sango said snickering at the memory.
“Yeah …” Miroku took a breath before finishing, “Too bad Kohaku hasn’t taken to them quite as well.”
The three of Ohama’s along with all the other children strayed away from the boy. Miroku could tell the kids found his brooding scary. The only one who seemed to enjoy his company was Rin.
“Well he’ll come around, besides Kohaku’s a bit too old to worry about playing with children” Sango said blithely.
“Hmmm,” he noncommittally grunted. Never mind the fact that the last year of his childhood was utterly destroyed Miroku thought.
Quiet came over them again. The monk struggled. He came out here with a purpose, for a confirmation.
“Sango,” He turned and stared into her face. The dwindling light only allowed him to see half of her features. They still looked finely carved in the shadows.
'He’s finally going to kiss me!' The taijiya thought, 'the dope! I’ve only been waiting a whole week.'
“The wedding,” He forced.
'Okay so no kiss but at least we’re going to talk about something important.' The proposed nuptials during the mission had only been spoken of in the vaguest possible terms in the post Naraku world. Sango was eager to hammer out the details like where and when this was all going to happen.
“Sango, I’d understand if you want to put off … or perhaps cancel the engagement,” the monk suddenly said as if it was a completely measured thing to say.
Sango, shocked was immediately defensive. Shrinking from the closeness of his face, she said “Why would I want to do that?!” her voice became even more strangled “I-is that what you want?”
But Miroku was steadfast, he grabbed her hand and held it tightly and forced her to look in his eyes. “Of course not,” his eyes took on a sympathetic gleam “I had only thought, at this time you would need to concentrate solely on your brother.”
Calmed, Sango let out a breath and enjoyed the warmth and strength of the man’s hands. “I don’t know what Kohaku needs but I know I want to marry you.”
Touched by his thoughtfulness, the taijiya raised her jaw in preparation to finally be kissed. Miroku was close. She could see the rough weaved texture of his robe and breath in the sweaty, smoky aroma of it. See the little rises of skin and dark sprigs of hair along his jaw and the slight bob of his Adam’s apple. It was all so different from herself and so wonderful. Almost as wonderful as when he pressed his mouth against hers.
As the young woman wrapped her arms around the Monk’s shoulders, thrilled by the feel of his tongue running along her lower lip and the more slippery sensations that accompanied the opening of her mouth, she got the most devilish idea.
You see just at the moment Sango was being embraced, a feeling was coming over her, a feeling that appeared at intervals over the past week, that feeling of total and complete exhale, of everything being over, of being alive. After a year of battles and tricks and heartbreak, Kohaku was alive. Miroku was alive. They were all alive. Sure they may have been scarred or damaged or separated but they were living godammit.
And while on this high the flushed woman managed to utter, “You know …. We don’t have to until the wedding night.”
As soon as the words left her mouth she was mortified. How completely perverted!
It wasn’t as if she didn’t have those feelings, to lay with a man, Miroku in particular. She just never really had the chance to flirt with the monk. His confident, grabby brand of sexuality and innuendo brought out the prudishness in her… and the fact that any man thought he had the right to touch her without her permission or thought her stupid enough to allow such a thing enraged her to the point of violence. That violence didn’t exactly help with lighthearted, sexy banter.
Maybe Sango was embarrassed because she knew Miroku could come up with better pick up lines while concussed.
Meanwhile Miroku’s mind was desperately trying to prevent his body from jumping and yipping with glee and then flopping Sango and himself in the dirt behind that dingy cabin.
He had not expected this opportunity to arise in the least nor was he going to try to go any further then sharing secluded kisses before their wedding, 'out of respect for Sango, of course'. But apparently his thoughts of respect were in vain.
Miroku’s hands during their encounter were slowly migrating down her back and precariously hovered over her bottom but ceased. He would not squander this fortune by scaring Sango with his eagerness. (But it had been over a year! And this was the goddess Sango were talking about!)
Miroku said in a gentle whisper “I wouldn’t mind that.”
Sango let out a giggle at that. They were still tucked against each other leaning against planks of wood.
“Where shall we go?” he said quieter against her ear. He knew to let her lead.
The taijiya gulped at the sound of his soft baritone. She balanced her chin on the Monk’s shoulder, pressing even closer. “They just finished rebuilding that storage hut,” she raised. The eponymous shed’s top half had been damaged by shouki.
-o-o-oOo-o-o-
“Well almost finished.”
The couple was staring up at the stars through the unfinished, slatted roof of the compartment they shared their first kiss.
“Well it’s only a little breezy and the stars shouldn’t be too offended by the sight of my backside,” Miroku said cheekily, leaning in closer.
It was a pretty chaste joke considering the one telling it but given the situation it was enough to make Sango conscious of herself. The taijiya backed away slightly, crossing her arms.
“Maybe we …” before she could get out another syllable the monk pulled Sango towards him by her upper arms stared deeply at her soft mouth and kissed her.
'Perhaps ravishment is a better option than delicacy' Miroku thought, ushering forth all the seduction power within him.
'This is clearly not his first time' Sango pondered as she felt his knowledgeable caress of fingers and stirring kisses. Too bad she didn’t much care where the man had learned all this. She was too busy moaning along to his ministrations and simply wishing for him to continue.
“Houshi-s-sama,” the woman gasped as he effortlessly laid her down on the bedding where he once lay dying and stroked the inside of her thigh.
There, in that roofless cove of intimacy surrounded by old weapons and barrels of rice, the taijiya found it quite nice to come to rapturous completion staring up at the stars, regardless of Miroku’s backside.
-o-o-oOo-o-o-
“I want the wedding to be soon” Sango allowed herself a little dreamy expression. “The sooner we can become a family.”
The taijiya was naked on her side, her breasts spilling onto the hay and a pile of crumpled clothes she lay over. Propping up her head she gazed down at her equally nude lover. Sango smiled to herself at being able to rope such a handsome rogue with his black silk hair mussed all over. Little wisps of it curled at his temples with wetness.
He gave her a charming half smile revealing a row of straight teeth, “About that.”
Or maybe she hadn’t roped him.
“Houshi-sama,” she said in a dangerously low tone.
All of the monk’s bravado disappeared at that tone. “We’re still to be wedded of course,” he was now holding up his hands in an attempt to pacify. “I just need it to be a tad bit delayed.”
“Really,” Sango said as she stood and harshly pulled on her kosode, “and for what reason.”
“Well,” he coughed, sitting up and tucking his kesa around his waist. “Sango, if I am to give up my life, my soul to you,” Miroku said staring up at her rigid form, “I must forsake all other commitments… to my master, to Buddha himself.” His fingers were now gripping her hips, looking up with his eyes wide but serious.
Half of Sango meanwhile was trying desperately to convince the other half not to swoon at the monk’s dramatics. “Mmm...”
“My poor master Mushin,” Miroku turned, his eyes closed and brows arched. He clenched a fist and brought it his chest “left alone to rot into obscurity in a dilapidated temple with no one to succeed him.”
'Oh boy, this is getting ridiculous' Sango internally eye rolled.
“Please, my love allow me to pay penance, ensure that my family’s temple be left to capable hands and take care of Mushin- sama before I give up a life of the cloth.” Miroku was determined.
'Sure, because he was such dedicated and religious priest before he proposed.' Sango recalled all the times he called his teacher a drunkard and behaved in a very un-monk like fashion.
She also realized Miroku had a respectable side as evidenced by his sizable spiritual powers and reverence for the dead and suffering. The man who taught all this to him was his very own foster father, Mushin.
Sango had been to the temple only once (and once saw it in an illusion) and could only recall a simple Butsuden and a strange burial shrine which she would later learn was Miroku’s father’s grave. Was it in dire straits? Sango couldn’t remember. 'Mushin-oshou-sama is quite old' she thought, not a bastion of heath either.
“How long will this take?” the taijiya was still suspicious but faltering.
“Six moons”
“What!”
“He has no other pupils. When I return victorious and without the kazaana he will expect me to stay and take over as head priest. Mushin-sama is very particular and will be very upset when he hears of my intent to marry.” A look of introspection crossed Miroku, “It will take two moons just to convince him that my decision is right and another four to find a monk or novice that suits his liking.”
Did he sound almost … regretful? Sango realized she really had no idea what Miroku’s relationship with his adoptive father was like. There was obvious trust and closeness, Mushin was the only one who could feasibly treat and repair the kazaana. He was there when Miroku’s real father was consumed. But from what she just heard there was perhaps some burning resentment between the two.
“And there’s no way I could perhaps … come with you?” She said sitting down to look into his eyes. Maybe this was a private matter between him and his teacher but Sango couldn’t help but think of all the pretty young things the monk could fit in, during those six long months.
“As I’ve previously said he will not be happy at the idea of me marrying and I would hate to see him act harshly to you because of it” Miroku’s voice was unflappable. She was definitely not coming, at least not with his consent anyway.
Sango sighed, “I guess it can’t be helped. When do you leave?”
“The day after tomorrow”
The frustrated taijiya exhaled hotly at her fiancé leaving so soon. “Fine, but you listen to me Houshi-sama,” She leaned in with an expression most fearsome and a rigid index finger. “If this is some sort of trick, some sort of … long con to bed me and then leave or I find you’ve been doing anything other than helping Mushin-sama while you’re away …” Sango leaned in further and her voice dropped an octave,” you know that part of your anatomy I’m newly acquainted with? I’ll rip it off.”
The monk laughed nervously at the horrifying image. 'She would never do such a thing … right?' “Your point is made quite clear, my love but your theory of my journey-long deception doesn’t stand up to scrutiny considering it was you who propositioned me.”
Sango forehead began to throb. 'THAT’S IT!'
-o-o-oOo-o-o-
The sound of slapping was heard echoing through the mid-night air as a woman marched out of a storage shed, her skirt, stays and obi in her hand fluttering behind her. “Get packing, Houshi!” she called.
Meanwhile a man rather a monk sat in that very storage shed, satisfied. Convincing Sango to delay the wedding and allow him to leave was a substantial piece of his plan 'and all done with relatively minimal injury!' He thought, surveying the red, welting hand prints on both cheeks. 'When did she learn to backhand?'
Truth of the matter was he hardly had time to visit his master while on his real journey. Miroku had to make a brief stop at the temple; he supposed he could at least tell Mushin of Naraku’s defeat. The news of his marriage wouldn’t exactly upset him seeing as finding another monk to inherit the temple would be easy. Who wouldn’t want to be the Oushou of a temple strategically placed between two prosperous regions, receiving donations and tributes from both? How else would its current head priest grow so fat on sake? Lucky for him Sango knew none of this or of his much more ambitious project.
The day after tomorrow was when he was going to leave. Miroku just had to convince his fiancée of one more thing.
-o-o-oOo-o-o-
“What! You want to take Kohaku with you?”
“I think it’s best for him to accompany me, it will help him” Miroku said, indicating with his head to the dour boy just outside the hut they were sitting in, sorting herbs with Rin in the afternoon sun.”Besides it’s a great opportunity to get acquainted with my future brother-in-law.”
“But why? it’s the first time in over a year we’ve been together for more than a week.” The taijiya turned her tear filmed eyes to the floor.”Why does everyone want to take him away from me? He’s still very fragile.”
Miroku sighed, any subject concerning Kohaku; Sango loosed all strength and sense. Though it was true, the person who was most concerned for the boy was the one Kohaku did the most to avoid after escaping Naraku’s clutches. It would be nice after the death of the evil hanyou for the two just to be together. But the monk had reason to believe, even after Kohaku deciding to live; Sango’s presence was still painful and damaging to him.
“His fragility is the very reason I want him to come with me.” Miroku really didn’t want have to do a song and dance for this. He stared her down, willing her with his eyes to understand and trust him on this one.
Despite the monk’s solemn assurances He really wasn’t sure this portion of his plan was the best option. Was it good for Kohaku to trek with him on this dizzying and monumental task? But one thing was he was certain. If things continued as he had seen in the past week it would lead to nothing but more pain and grief for both Sango and Kohaku.
Kohaku was raw. So long was he under the control of Naraku and the shard. Even after he worked so hard to overcome his pain Miroku sensed the still present desperation in him. The boy had two paths, antisocial, destructive and possibly violent, likely considering his oncoming manhood. That much anger and confusion in a boy at his peak, when boys that age are so eager to do something (destructive or productive it doesn’t matter) was a dangerous combination.
The second path was total withdrawal. From what Sango told him, Kohaku was sensitive and empathic. It was what made it even more painful for her to see what was becoming of her naturally peaceful brother. This personality plus so many traumas would result in a lot blame and self inflicting punishment. Kohaku’s massive shame and depression would just cause him to shut down.
And Sango was not helping. The woman was so desperate for her and her brother’s relationship to be repaired and return to normal that she was in complete denial of the boy’s true feelings. To Sango, Kohaku was still a little boy, delicate and in need of care. She would enable him beyond better reason. If he wanted to lie in bed all day, speaking to no one, she would allow it even encourage it saying ‘he needed his space’. If he angrily skulked around the forest, killing small animals or began stealing and making trouble in the village, Sango would defend and protect, ‘he’s young he’s just working out his grief’ she would say.
Soon there would be a growing resentment between the two, Kohaku angry at Sango for her ignorance of his real, dark pain and constant patronizing accommodation. Sango mad at Kohaku for not being that little boy she once knew. Miroku loathed the day when she truly realized her relationship with her brother would never be the same.
Miroku knew what the boy needed. He too was once a bitter and grief laden adolescent and it was his Master, Mushin who had helped him. He taught Miroku to release his grief by devotion and salvation to Buddha via discipline, physical and intellectual. It’s what allowed him to be to be so advanced in combat and spiritual power at such a young age.
But more importantly (and more relevant to helping Kohaku) Mushin taught him the pleasures of living. There’s nothing wrong with reveling in the feel of a woman or relaxing into that sweet place when you’ve drunk just enough sake. All those things eased his bitterness towards his fate, towards his father and grandfather for condemning him to a measured, early death.
Mushin’s technique, of course was not his plan of attack. Kohaku was a bit too young for a visit to a teahouse. But Miroku hoped a trip of hard work but relaxed cheerfulness and a chance to give a gift to his sister would allow the boy to be a boy. Kohaku had plenty of strength and duty it was happiness he was missing. And maybe a little sake, god knows he deserves it.
Yes he had a plan. Sango just had to agree to it without knowing what it was.
During Miroku’s internal monologue and the couples’ emotional stare down, Shippo choose to trot in and ask if Miroku and Kohaku were really leaving tomorrow.
“No! No one has agreed Kohaku is going anywhere!” She returned indignantly.
Shippo, who had really just stepped in to sneak a mid day snack and was trying share light conversation with his friends, innocently replied, “Really? Because Kohaku just told me he was going to see Miroku-sama’s temple.”
Sango desperately turned to her fiancé, “you already told him? He wants to go!?”
“Well … yes.” The monk did his best to be soothing, stroking her shoulder, “Please Sango.”
The agape women turned to her brother who appeared at the doorway.
“Ane-ue don’t be upset, I want to be in service of your future husband.”
The taijiya was uncomfortable being out of control but she was outnumbered and tired of fighting a losing battle. Once again she acquiesced.
-o-o-oOo-o-o-
The next morning the mixed youkai group was able to move back into Kaede’s hut and they were able exchange goodbyes there. Rin in particular was teetering on hysterics and Shippo since last night had been strongly hinting about wanting to go and Miroku refused to acknowledge any of them. Inuyasha who had been quiet about the whole affair steadily warned the two to stay out of trouble.
It was Sango, with Kilala circling her ankles, which sent them off at the edge of town. “Okay and you have all the food I packed, yes?” She was looking more anxiety ridden than usual. “Kaede-sama suggested I dry some meats, I’ve never done it before so I hope you like it.”
“Yes, Ane-ue you’ve said that already,” Kohaku was already exhausted by his sister’s fretting.
“I’m sure we will love it,” said Miroku, trying to diffuse. “Goodbye Sango, my darling.”
“Goodbye Hou … erm Miroku,” he was her fiancé why couldn’t she remember to call him by his name! “Goodbye Kohaku,” all of the forlorn longing of their relationship was in her voice.
“Bye Ane-ue,” the boy was already ten feet along the path.
Miroku gave one last wave and gander to his lover’s shapely figure before following Kohaku.
After a minute or two of walking, “WAIT!” called the Taijiya, still stuck to her spot but realizing something. She ran to them carrying her cream colored, youkai companion. “Take Kilala with you, just in case,” she huffed to the pair but clearly looking at her brother.
The neko hoped onto his shoulder. “Alright, we have to go now,” the boy said in a quiet but serious sort of way.
“Alright” The woman had the beginning of tears sparkling in her eyes.
Sango was face to face with her brother, Miroku at her right. The monk swept an arm around her and tucked her against his chest. It was a little improper in front of Kohaku but he hated to see his love so dejected. His embrace was trying to translate that they must leave now for things to get any better.
“Take care of him.” Sango’s weepy voice was muffled by a purple robed shoulder.
“Of course”
And with that the two, now three were off towards the Temple.
-o-o-oOo-o-o-
Author’s note: Okay so, Inuyasha and reading Inuyasha fanfiction has been a part of my life for seven years and I’d never imagine I’d be writing my own, until this chapter, a few scribblings in my journal and a ghost of a story came to me. This is sort of my Inuyasha opus (god that sounds stupid), written because I basically don’t like how it ended, chapter 558 specifically. So I’m going to write my own ending intended to be in three parts. This is the first chapter of the first part.
Hope you like it!
Love, Whattown
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters
This is a divergence/continuation and takes place after chapter 557
A young woman walked through an isolated village in lower Musashi. She was headed to a crowded hut as the sun was setting on a settling down town. Carpenters were packing up their tools, farmers were trudging from the rice paddies, mothers were calling in their children and lanterns were being lit.
Watching all this, Sango longed for a home.
She currently had no home to speak of and was staying with the elderly Miko who in turn was staying with a neighbor woman and her three children. The six of them and the Miko’s other four companions, a monk, a kitsune, a little girl and an older boy made for quite a squeeze in single roomed hut. Occasionally a Hanyou could be spotted on the roof completing its look of a stuffed crate.
It was an uncomfortable wait while the Miko Kaede’s own home was being rebuilt, destroyed by one serious youkai attack.
Sango arrived at the neighbor, Ohama’s house but couldn’t bring herself to actually enter. The screams of children and loud clanging stopped her. The door hanging was practically bursting from all the people. Instead Sango went to the back and stared in to the drop off of trees and forest the house abutted.
She hummed thinking it was the first quiet time she’s had in the ten days since the final battle. The first three had been a stressful blur keeping watch over a patch of dirt waiting for something, someone to show up. While the next week was spent cleaning up damage made by the shouki and tracking down small vermin youkai attracted by all the jyaki still lingering around.
“May I join you?” the sun was almost set making Miroku look like a shadowed and cloaked figure but his voice was warm and lingered in the cool air.
“Sure,” Sango smiled at her beloved fiancé. Her back was pressed against the rear of the ruckus hut. The Monk mirrored her, his upper arm held along hers.
They stood in silence and Sango felt a rising tension, that kinetic energy that bounced between the two when alone. It set the taijiya on fire. It was that exultancy of being with the person you loved and knowing they loved you back.
Sango noticed, for her at least that the feeling had grown substantially since the ramp down. It can happen when obstacles like imminent death are removed from your relationship.
The energy bloomed to chaotic levels when the monk held her hand and in return she rested her head on his shoulder.
The silence was broken when from the abode behind them came a loud bump against the wall and the laughter of children.
“We should go back inside but …” Shrills of kids were being talked over by a stern woman’s booming voice. “It’s so loud.” Sango’s voice was humorous but had a ragged edge to it.
“We’ll simply wait out the storm, the children have to sleep sometime” He sounded so calm as if the last ten days spent in a stuffed cabin with three rambunctious children (Ohama’s two youngest and Rin) aided by a kitsune prankster hadn’t affected him at all. But given he woke up this morning to animated wooden snakes slithering around his face and a chorus of giggling children. Sango was sure it was bothering him.
“Shippo certainly likes being around all those kids, huh?” Sango said snickering at the memory.
“Yeah …” Miroku took a breath before finishing, “Too bad Kohaku hasn’t taken to them quite as well.”
The three of Ohama’s along with all the other children strayed away from the boy. Miroku could tell the kids found his brooding scary. The only one who seemed to enjoy his company was Rin.
“Well he’ll come around, besides Kohaku’s a bit too old to worry about playing with children” Sango said blithely.
“Hmmm,” he noncommittally grunted. Never mind the fact that the last year of his childhood was utterly destroyed Miroku thought.
Quiet came over them again. The monk struggled. He came out here with a purpose, for a confirmation.
“Sango,” He turned and stared into her face. The dwindling light only allowed him to see half of her features. They still looked finely carved in the shadows.
'He’s finally going to kiss me!' The taijiya thought, 'the dope! I’ve only been waiting a whole week.'
“The wedding,” He forced.
'Okay so no kiss but at least we’re going to talk about something important.' The proposed nuptials during the mission had only been spoken of in the vaguest possible terms in the post Naraku world. Sango was eager to hammer out the details like where and when this was all going to happen.
“Sango, I’d understand if you want to put off … or perhaps cancel the engagement,” the monk suddenly said as if it was a completely measured thing to say.
Sango, shocked was immediately defensive. Shrinking from the closeness of his face, she said “Why would I want to do that?!” her voice became even more strangled “I-is that what you want?”
But Miroku was steadfast, he grabbed her hand and held it tightly and forced her to look in his eyes. “Of course not,” his eyes took on a sympathetic gleam “I had only thought, at this time you would need to concentrate solely on your brother.”
Calmed, Sango let out a breath and enjoyed the warmth and strength of the man’s hands. “I don’t know what Kohaku needs but I know I want to marry you.”
Touched by his thoughtfulness, the taijiya raised her jaw in preparation to finally be kissed. Miroku was close. She could see the rough weaved texture of his robe and breath in the sweaty, smoky aroma of it. See the little rises of skin and dark sprigs of hair along his jaw and the slight bob of his Adam’s apple. It was all so different from herself and so wonderful. Almost as wonderful as when he pressed his mouth against hers.
As the young woman wrapped her arms around the Monk’s shoulders, thrilled by the feel of his tongue running along her lower lip and the more slippery sensations that accompanied the opening of her mouth, she got the most devilish idea.
You see just at the moment Sango was being embraced, a feeling was coming over her, a feeling that appeared at intervals over the past week, that feeling of total and complete exhale, of everything being over, of being alive. After a year of battles and tricks and heartbreak, Kohaku was alive. Miroku was alive. They were all alive. Sure they may have been scarred or damaged or separated but they were living godammit.
And while on this high the flushed woman managed to utter, “You know …. We don’t have to until the wedding night.”
As soon as the words left her mouth she was mortified. How completely perverted!
It wasn’t as if she didn’t have those feelings, to lay with a man, Miroku in particular. She just never really had the chance to flirt with the monk. His confident, grabby brand of sexuality and innuendo brought out the prudishness in her… and the fact that any man thought he had the right to touch her without her permission or thought her stupid enough to allow such a thing enraged her to the point of violence. That violence didn’t exactly help with lighthearted, sexy banter.
Maybe Sango was embarrassed because she knew Miroku could come up with better pick up lines while concussed.
Meanwhile Miroku’s mind was desperately trying to prevent his body from jumping and yipping with glee and then flopping Sango and himself in the dirt behind that dingy cabin.
He had not expected this opportunity to arise in the least nor was he going to try to go any further then sharing secluded kisses before their wedding, 'out of respect for Sango, of course'. But apparently his thoughts of respect were in vain.
Miroku’s hands during their encounter were slowly migrating down her back and precariously hovered over her bottom but ceased. He would not squander this fortune by scaring Sango with his eagerness. (But it had been over a year! And this was the goddess Sango were talking about!)
Miroku said in a gentle whisper “I wouldn’t mind that.”
Sango let out a giggle at that. They were still tucked against each other leaning against planks of wood.
“Where shall we go?” he said quieter against her ear. He knew to let her lead.
The taijiya gulped at the sound of his soft baritone. She balanced her chin on the Monk’s shoulder, pressing even closer. “They just finished rebuilding that storage hut,” she raised. The eponymous shed’s top half had been damaged by shouki.
-o-o-oOo-o-o-
“Well almost finished.”
The couple was staring up at the stars through the unfinished, slatted roof of the compartment they shared their first kiss.
“Well it’s only a little breezy and the stars shouldn’t be too offended by the sight of my backside,” Miroku said cheekily, leaning in closer.
It was a pretty chaste joke considering the one telling it but given the situation it was enough to make Sango conscious of herself. The taijiya backed away slightly, crossing her arms.
“Maybe we …” before she could get out another syllable the monk pulled Sango towards him by her upper arms stared deeply at her soft mouth and kissed her.
'Perhaps ravishment is a better option than delicacy' Miroku thought, ushering forth all the seduction power within him.
'This is clearly not his first time' Sango pondered as she felt his knowledgeable caress of fingers and stirring kisses. Too bad she didn’t much care where the man had learned all this. She was too busy moaning along to his ministrations and simply wishing for him to continue.
“Houshi-s-sama,” the woman gasped as he effortlessly laid her down on the bedding where he once lay dying and stroked the inside of her thigh.
There, in that roofless cove of intimacy surrounded by old weapons and barrels of rice, the taijiya found it quite nice to come to rapturous completion staring up at the stars, regardless of Miroku’s backside.
-o-o-oOo-o-o-
“I want the wedding to be soon” Sango allowed herself a little dreamy expression. “The sooner we can become a family.”
The taijiya was naked on her side, her breasts spilling onto the hay and a pile of crumpled clothes she lay over. Propping up her head she gazed down at her equally nude lover. Sango smiled to herself at being able to rope such a handsome rogue with his black silk hair mussed all over. Little wisps of it curled at his temples with wetness.
He gave her a charming half smile revealing a row of straight teeth, “About that.”
Or maybe she hadn’t roped him.
“Houshi-sama,” she said in a dangerously low tone.
All of the monk’s bravado disappeared at that tone. “We’re still to be wedded of course,” he was now holding up his hands in an attempt to pacify. “I just need it to be a tad bit delayed.”
“Really,” Sango said as she stood and harshly pulled on her kosode, “and for what reason.”
“Well,” he coughed, sitting up and tucking his kesa around his waist. “Sango, if I am to give up my life, my soul to you,” Miroku said staring up at her rigid form, “I must forsake all other commitments… to my master, to Buddha himself.” His fingers were now gripping her hips, looking up with his eyes wide but serious.
Half of Sango meanwhile was trying desperately to convince the other half not to swoon at the monk’s dramatics. “Mmm...”
“My poor master Mushin,” Miroku turned, his eyes closed and brows arched. He clenched a fist and brought it his chest “left alone to rot into obscurity in a dilapidated temple with no one to succeed him.”
'Oh boy, this is getting ridiculous' Sango internally eye rolled.
“Please, my love allow me to pay penance, ensure that my family’s temple be left to capable hands and take care of Mushin- sama before I give up a life of the cloth.” Miroku was determined.
'Sure, because he was such dedicated and religious priest before he proposed.' Sango recalled all the times he called his teacher a drunkard and behaved in a very un-monk like fashion.
She also realized Miroku had a respectable side as evidenced by his sizable spiritual powers and reverence for the dead and suffering. The man who taught all this to him was his very own foster father, Mushin.
Sango had been to the temple only once (and once saw it in an illusion) and could only recall a simple Butsuden and a strange burial shrine which she would later learn was Miroku’s father’s grave. Was it in dire straits? Sango couldn’t remember. 'Mushin-oshou-sama is quite old' she thought, not a bastion of heath either.
“How long will this take?” the taijiya was still suspicious but faltering.
“Six moons”
“What!”
“He has no other pupils. When I return victorious and without the kazaana he will expect me to stay and take over as head priest. Mushin-sama is very particular and will be very upset when he hears of my intent to marry.” A look of introspection crossed Miroku, “It will take two moons just to convince him that my decision is right and another four to find a monk or novice that suits his liking.”
Did he sound almost … regretful? Sango realized she really had no idea what Miroku’s relationship with his adoptive father was like. There was obvious trust and closeness, Mushin was the only one who could feasibly treat and repair the kazaana. He was there when Miroku’s real father was consumed. But from what she just heard there was perhaps some burning resentment between the two.
“And there’s no way I could perhaps … come with you?” She said sitting down to look into his eyes. Maybe this was a private matter between him and his teacher but Sango couldn’t help but think of all the pretty young things the monk could fit in, during those six long months.
“As I’ve previously said he will not be happy at the idea of me marrying and I would hate to see him act harshly to you because of it” Miroku’s voice was unflappable. She was definitely not coming, at least not with his consent anyway.
Sango sighed, “I guess it can’t be helped. When do you leave?”
“The day after tomorrow”
The frustrated taijiya exhaled hotly at her fiancé leaving so soon. “Fine, but you listen to me Houshi-sama,” She leaned in with an expression most fearsome and a rigid index finger. “If this is some sort of trick, some sort of … long con to bed me and then leave or I find you’ve been doing anything other than helping Mushin-sama while you’re away …” Sango leaned in further and her voice dropped an octave,” you know that part of your anatomy I’m newly acquainted with? I’ll rip it off.”
The monk laughed nervously at the horrifying image. 'She would never do such a thing … right?' “Your point is made quite clear, my love but your theory of my journey-long deception doesn’t stand up to scrutiny considering it was you who propositioned me.”
Sango forehead began to throb. 'THAT’S IT!'
-o-o-oOo-o-o-
The sound of slapping was heard echoing through the mid-night air as a woman marched out of a storage shed, her skirt, stays and obi in her hand fluttering behind her. “Get packing, Houshi!” she called.
Meanwhile a man rather a monk sat in that very storage shed, satisfied. Convincing Sango to delay the wedding and allow him to leave was a substantial piece of his plan 'and all done with relatively minimal injury!' He thought, surveying the red, welting hand prints on both cheeks. 'When did she learn to backhand?'
Truth of the matter was he hardly had time to visit his master while on his real journey. Miroku had to make a brief stop at the temple; he supposed he could at least tell Mushin of Naraku’s defeat. The news of his marriage wouldn’t exactly upset him seeing as finding another monk to inherit the temple would be easy. Who wouldn’t want to be the Oushou of a temple strategically placed between two prosperous regions, receiving donations and tributes from both? How else would its current head priest grow so fat on sake? Lucky for him Sango knew none of this or of his much more ambitious project.
The day after tomorrow was when he was going to leave. Miroku just had to convince his fiancée of one more thing.
-o-o-oOo-o-o-
“What! You want to take Kohaku with you?”
“I think it’s best for him to accompany me, it will help him” Miroku said, indicating with his head to the dour boy just outside the hut they were sitting in, sorting herbs with Rin in the afternoon sun.”Besides it’s a great opportunity to get acquainted with my future brother-in-law.”
“But why? it’s the first time in over a year we’ve been together for more than a week.” The taijiya turned her tear filmed eyes to the floor.”Why does everyone want to take him away from me? He’s still very fragile.”
Miroku sighed, any subject concerning Kohaku; Sango loosed all strength and sense. Though it was true, the person who was most concerned for the boy was the one Kohaku did the most to avoid after escaping Naraku’s clutches. It would be nice after the death of the evil hanyou for the two just to be together. But the monk had reason to believe, even after Kohaku deciding to live; Sango’s presence was still painful and damaging to him.
“His fragility is the very reason I want him to come with me.” Miroku really didn’t want have to do a song and dance for this. He stared her down, willing her with his eyes to understand and trust him on this one.
Despite the monk’s solemn assurances He really wasn’t sure this portion of his plan was the best option. Was it good for Kohaku to trek with him on this dizzying and monumental task? But one thing was he was certain. If things continued as he had seen in the past week it would lead to nothing but more pain and grief for both Sango and Kohaku.
Kohaku was raw. So long was he under the control of Naraku and the shard. Even after he worked so hard to overcome his pain Miroku sensed the still present desperation in him. The boy had two paths, antisocial, destructive and possibly violent, likely considering his oncoming manhood. That much anger and confusion in a boy at his peak, when boys that age are so eager to do something (destructive or productive it doesn’t matter) was a dangerous combination.
The second path was total withdrawal. From what Sango told him, Kohaku was sensitive and empathic. It was what made it even more painful for her to see what was becoming of her naturally peaceful brother. This personality plus so many traumas would result in a lot blame and self inflicting punishment. Kohaku’s massive shame and depression would just cause him to shut down.
And Sango was not helping. The woman was so desperate for her and her brother’s relationship to be repaired and return to normal that she was in complete denial of the boy’s true feelings. To Sango, Kohaku was still a little boy, delicate and in need of care. She would enable him beyond better reason. If he wanted to lie in bed all day, speaking to no one, she would allow it even encourage it saying ‘he needed his space’. If he angrily skulked around the forest, killing small animals or began stealing and making trouble in the village, Sango would defend and protect, ‘he’s young he’s just working out his grief’ she would say.
Soon there would be a growing resentment between the two, Kohaku angry at Sango for her ignorance of his real, dark pain and constant patronizing accommodation. Sango mad at Kohaku for not being that little boy she once knew. Miroku loathed the day when she truly realized her relationship with her brother would never be the same.
Miroku knew what the boy needed. He too was once a bitter and grief laden adolescent and it was his Master, Mushin who had helped him. He taught Miroku to release his grief by devotion and salvation to Buddha via discipline, physical and intellectual. It’s what allowed him to be to be so advanced in combat and spiritual power at such a young age.
But more importantly (and more relevant to helping Kohaku) Mushin taught him the pleasures of living. There’s nothing wrong with reveling in the feel of a woman or relaxing into that sweet place when you’ve drunk just enough sake. All those things eased his bitterness towards his fate, towards his father and grandfather for condemning him to a measured, early death.
Mushin’s technique, of course was not his plan of attack. Kohaku was a bit too young for a visit to a teahouse. But Miroku hoped a trip of hard work but relaxed cheerfulness and a chance to give a gift to his sister would allow the boy to be a boy. Kohaku had plenty of strength and duty it was happiness he was missing. And maybe a little sake, god knows he deserves it.
Yes he had a plan. Sango just had to agree to it without knowing what it was.
During Miroku’s internal monologue and the couples’ emotional stare down, Shippo choose to trot in and ask if Miroku and Kohaku were really leaving tomorrow.
“No! No one has agreed Kohaku is going anywhere!” She returned indignantly.
Shippo, who had really just stepped in to sneak a mid day snack and was trying share light conversation with his friends, innocently replied, “Really? Because Kohaku just told me he was going to see Miroku-sama’s temple.”
Sango desperately turned to her fiancé, “you already told him? He wants to go!?”
“Well … yes.” The monk did his best to be soothing, stroking her shoulder, “Please Sango.”
The agape women turned to her brother who appeared at the doorway.
“Ane-ue don’t be upset, I want to be in service of your future husband.”
The taijiya was uncomfortable being out of control but she was outnumbered and tired of fighting a losing battle. Once again she acquiesced.
-o-o-oOo-o-o-
The next morning the mixed youkai group was able to move back into Kaede’s hut and they were able exchange goodbyes there. Rin in particular was teetering on hysterics and Shippo since last night had been strongly hinting about wanting to go and Miroku refused to acknowledge any of them. Inuyasha who had been quiet about the whole affair steadily warned the two to stay out of trouble.
It was Sango, with Kilala circling her ankles, which sent them off at the edge of town. “Okay and you have all the food I packed, yes?” She was looking more anxiety ridden than usual. “Kaede-sama suggested I dry some meats, I’ve never done it before so I hope you like it.”
“Yes, Ane-ue you’ve said that already,” Kohaku was already exhausted by his sister’s fretting.
“I’m sure we will love it,” said Miroku, trying to diffuse. “Goodbye Sango, my darling.”
“Goodbye Hou … erm Miroku,” he was her fiancé why couldn’t she remember to call him by his name! “Goodbye Kohaku,” all of the forlorn longing of their relationship was in her voice.
“Bye Ane-ue,” the boy was already ten feet along the path.
Miroku gave one last wave and gander to his lover’s shapely figure before following Kohaku.
After a minute or two of walking, “WAIT!” called the Taijiya, still stuck to her spot but realizing something. She ran to them carrying her cream colored, youkai companion. “Take Kilala with you, just in case,” she huffed to the pair but clearly looking at her brother.
The neko hoped onto his shoulder. “Alright, we have to go now,” the boy said in a quiet but serious sort of way.
“Alright” The woman had the beginning of tears sparkling in her eyes.
Sango was face to face with her brother, Miroku at her right. The monk swept an arm around her and tucked her against his chest. It was a little improper in front of Kohaku but he hated to see his love so dejected. His embrace was trying to translate that they must leave now for things to get any better.
“Take care of him.” Sango’s weepy voice was muffled by a purple robed shoulder.
“Of course”
And with that the two, now three were off towards the Temple.
-o-o-oOo-o-o-
Author’s note: Okay so, Inuyasha and reading Inuyasha fanfiction has been a part of my life for seven years and I’d never imagine I’d be writing my own, until this chapter, a few scribblings in my journal and a ghost of a story came to me. This is sort of my Inuyasha opus (god that sounds stupid), written because I basically don’t like how it ended, chapter 558 specifically. So I’m going to write my own ending intended to be in three parts. This is the first chapter of the first part.
Hope you like it!
Love, Whattown