InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Small Moments ❯ Waterlogged ( Chapter 11 )
[ A - All Readers ]
By: ladygriddlebone 
Good deeds aren't always appreciated.
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Romance / Angst | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 03.28.2010 | Pages: 1 | Words: 576 | Visits: 458 | Status: Completed
Good deeds aren't always appreciated.
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Romance / Angst | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 03.28.2010 | Pages: 1 | Words: 576 | Visits: 458 | Status: Completed
There was water everywhere.
After being tossed about in the current of summoned water, Miroku was not quite sure where he was, where the others were, or even which way was up. But suddenly, he hit the bottom. Struggling to regain his sense of balance, he gathered his legs beneath him and pushed upward. He broke the surface, gasping for air and glad to be alive.
He took a moment to catch his breath before swimming toward the nearest island. It was tiny, barely big enough for him to sit on, but it was dry, and it gave him a relatively safe place to consider what to do next. It was obvious that he was outside of the Suijin's mansion - he could see it looming distantly in the fog - but there was no sign of any of his companions. For a moment he thought they had all been separated, but a dark shape in the water nearby caught his attention.
It was Sango. He would recognize that enormous weapon - and that skintight black armor - anywhere.
She was face-down and not moving, her hair and armor forming a dark stain against the inky black water. Her hand still gripped her weapon, which drifted next to her. If not for the high, bright moon piercing through the fog, he might not have seen her there at all.
He did not even stop to think, just flew into action. He scrambled over to her, half swimming and half flailing as he sank into water that was deeper than he expected. With some effort, he managed to snag her, hooking his hands under her arms and awkwardly heaving her up onto the island with him. She was much heavier than she looked, probably due to the sheer size of that weapon she carried.
He disentangled the leather strap from her hand and set the boomerang and her sword aside. Her feline companion, Kirara, crawled out from underneath the boomerang and shook herself dry, watching him with keen interest. Miroku had not even noticed her there, and felt slightly self-conscious under that red-orange gaze... but right now he knew he needed to see to Sango. In the moonlight she looked very pale and still; it did not appear that she was breathing.
"Hang in there, Sango," he muttered, pressing his ear to her chest to listen. Her heart was still going, but she was definitely not breathing. She must have taken in water when the Suijin expelled them from the mansion. Well then, he would simply have to breathe for her.
She was not an unlovely woman, and the idea of kissing her - even in an attempt to breathe life back into her - held a certain appeal. It did not take much to convince him of the necessity; in fact it seemed to be the logical conclusion, almost a matter of course. And if it saved her life, he could hardly imagine that she would be opposed to such an action, even if it would ordinarily be an outrageous breach of decorum.
As it turned out, he was wrong about that.
Just as he was about to press his lips to hers, she opened her eyes.
And to judge by the force with which her hand connected with his face... she was not pleased with him.
After being tossed about in the current of summoned water, Miroku was not quite sure where he was, where the others were, or even which way was up. But suddenly, he hit the bottom. Struggling to regain his sense of balance, he gathered his legs beneath him and pushed upward. He broke the surface, gasping for air and glad to be alive.
He took a moment to catch his breath before swimming toward the nearest island. It was tiny, barely big enough for him to sit on, but it was dry, and it gave him a relatively safe place to consider what to do next. It was obvious that he was outside of the Suijin's mansion - he could see it looming distantly in the fog - but there was no sign of any of his companions. For a moment he thought they had all been separated, but a dark shape in the water nearby caught his attention.
It was Sango. He would recognize that enormous weapon - and that skintight black armor - anywhere.
She was face-down and not moving, her hair and armor forming a dark stain against the inky black water. Her hand still gripped her weapon, which drifted next to her. If not for the high, bright moon piercing through the fog, he might not have seen her there at all.
He did not even stop to think, just flew into action. He scrambled over to her, half swimming and half flailing as he sank into water that was deeper than he expected. With some effort, he managed to snag her, hooking his hands under her arms and awkwardly heaving her up onto the island with him. She was much heavier than she looked, probably due to the sheer size of that weapon she carried.
He disentangled the leather strap from her hand and set the boomerang and her sword aside. Her feline companion, Kirara, crawled out from underneath the boomerang and shook herself dry, watching him with keen interest. Miroku had not even noticed her there, and felt slightly self-conscious under that red-orange gaze... but right now he knew he needed to see to Sango. In the moonlight she looked very pale and still; it did not appear that she was breathing.
"Hang in there, Sango," he muttered, pressing his ear to her chest to listen. Her heart was still going, but she was definitely not breathing. She must have taken in water when the Suijin expelled them from the mansion. Well then, he would simply have to breathe for her.
She was not an unlovely woman, and the idea of kissing her - even in an attempt to breathe life back into her - held a certain appeal. It did not take much to convince him of the necessity; in fact it seemed to be the logical conclusion, almost a matter of course. And if it saved her life, he could hardly imagine that she would be opposed to such an action, even if it would ordinarily be an outrageous breach of decorum.
As it turned out, he was wrong about that.
Just as he was about to press his lips to hers, she opened her eyes.
And to judge by the force with which her hand connected with his face... she was not pleased with him.