InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ What Next? ❯ The Woman ( Chapter 3 )
[ P - Pre-Teen ]
By: MsCongeniality 
It's a beautiful, sunny day. What else would a young monk's thoughts turn to?
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / / Psychological / Drama | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 07.16.2004 | Updated On: 07.16.2004 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.9K | Visits: 233 | Status: Completed
It's a beautiful, sunny day. What else would a young monk's thoughts turn to?
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / / Psychological / Drama | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 07.16.2004 | Updated On: 07.16.2004 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.9K | Visits: 233 | Status: Completed
A/N: Just a quick note to thank my wonderful beta readers Therhoda and Nabob.
Oh, and for the record I really don't own anything. All characters belong to Rumiko Takahashi.
Really.
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It was a quiet afternoon, warm and pleasant - the perfect day for a journey. ‘Which makes it all the more remarkable,’ the young monk thought to himself, ‘that we never seem to cross paths with anybody unless they need our help.’
A burst of laughter from up ahead brought him out of his thoughts, and Miroku took the opportunity to leave idle thoughts aside and turn his gaze towards his traveling companions without fear that his attention would be mistaken for anything more inappropriate than curiosity.
The girls walked side by side, with Kirara perched on Sango’s shoulder and Shippou riding in the basket of the bicycle Kagome pushed along. Their leisurely pace had already been the cause of more than a few snide comments from Inuyasha but, perhaps sensing the lack of bite behind the words, the girls did no more than give halfhearted apologies as they continued along without hurry. At a glance, it seemed Shippou was doing his best to encourage the relaxed and jovial mood because the little kitsune’s body language clearly showed that he was telling a tale, and in the grandest style possible for one who had yet to lose his milk teeth.
Miroku nodded to himself in silent confirmation - that explained the laughter. The little trickster was certainly good for providing moments of relief from the unrelenting seriousness of their ongoing mission, though for one so young he had an uncanny knack for providing just the information that would damn a man and none of the details that might redeem him. As if in response to his thoughts, Sango suddenly turned to glance at him over her shoulder, her eyes narrowed and brow set. That left no room for question about just exactly what the subject of this latest tale was. Lowering his eyes away from the taijiya’s dark gaze, he sighed and turned his face rather than rise to the bait.
Denied his opportunity to watch the small knot at the center of the group, Miroku focused instead on the lone figure some distance apart from them. Inuyasha walked on ahead leading the formation, his face presumably set in his customary scowl, as he put up a front of annoyance at being distracted from their mission. Miroku briefly allowed himself a small smile as he thought about that. After so many weeks in his company, he knew Inuyasha better than the hanyou would have admitted.
The truth was that Inuyasha was too responsible a leader to truly keep pushing them when it was clear that a break was long overdue. As a result, they were headed back to Kaede’s village for several days of rest and a trip home for Kagome. The monk's smile lingered because he knew the latter was the true reason for Inuyasha's poor mood. Perhaps the hanyou was thinking about that himself, because it seemed the rest of them managed to escape being growled at directly for a change. With Inuyasha's 'gentler' attitude, and having no particular urgency to their travel, it was really no surprise that the others' moods seemed to have taken a decidedly pleasant turn.
The girls' laughter continued in sporadic short bursts along with an occasional surprised exclamation from Sango and an accompanying quiet murmur from Kagome, which was undoubtedly an explanation meant to mitigate the damage the child was doing to his already tarnished reputation. His grip on the shakujou tightened slightly and a look of annoyance crossed his features. He briefly considered offering a few words in defense of his actions, but quickly decided against it. ‘The last thing I need to do is spoil the mood by picking an argument I don't have a chance of winning,’ he thought.
Finally, he just determined to ignore them altogether and fixed his gaze loosely on the road in front of him. He began preparing for a light state of meditation - altering his breathing, relaxing body and mind as he attempted to pull his thoughts inwards away from petty concerns to concentrate on.... His thoughts trailed off and he briefly closed his eyes.
Bringing his gloved hand up to brush his hair away from his forehead, Miroku sighed and turned his attention to the scenery at the side of the road. He might be named for a son of enlightenment, but Miroku was all too aware of his own failings where the realm of earthly pleasures was concerned, and he wasn't going to be able to properly clear his mind when there was such a pleasant distraction mere yards ahead of him.
Of course that sort of distraction was precisely what had upset Sango and prompted that icy glare just a few moments ago. While his reputation for shamelessness hadn’t especially bothered him before, the idea that Sango might think less of him based on his slightly.... Miroku paused again in his thoughts, his grip on his shakujou tightening and a small frown briefly marring his features before he adopted his composed countenance once again. No, if he was to be honest with himself, he worried about her reaction to his extremely checkered past. The thought of Sango losing respect for him bothered him in ways that he wasn’t quite ready to admit to himself.
Not yet.
His face remained calm, but a dark shadow touched his eyes and he looked down to his gloved hand. Flexing his fingers slightly he felt the gentle pull at the fabric across his palm as he continued thinking. After all, the problem with ‘not yet’ lay in the likelihood that the time to consider might well never come. With each use of his kazaana decreasing his lifespan, and the very real possibility that he might not survive to have his final confrontation with Naraku and lift the curse, everything had to be considered in the here and now whether he was prepared to deal with the consequences or not. Shaking his head slightly in an attempt to banish such morbid thoughts, Miroku turned to face forward again and took a moment to distract himself by watching the girls in front of him.
Sango and Kagome still seemed to be chatting but Shippou had quieted for the moment, increasing the chances that the topic of conversation had shifted away from anything that might get him into further trouble. Their postures were uncharacteristically relaxed and occasionally one would turn towards the other, presumably with a comment or an answer for her companion. His eyes lightened and his small smile returned as Kagome gestured with her hands, very obviously describing some sort of clothing item. Just watching them have such a simple, unguarded, normal journey acted as a balm for his troubled mind and he allowed himself to continue watching these precious moments. His gaze shifted from Kagome back to Sango's...figure and the smile broadened almost of its own accord. But then, what man could look on such a woman and not be taken with her? The smile threatened to break into a grin and he looked down once again so they couldn't accuse him of leering.
Perhaps this was, in fact, the time to start considering Sango and the obvious effect she had on him. The questions inherent in 'not yet' might not seem as insurmountable or as bleak when the very air around him was so obviously filled with companionship and good cheer. It could only be fortuitous to contemplate a pleasant future in such an atmosphere.
A future.
The thought shocked him back from his nascent fantasies and to a more schooled expression. He hadn't really thought beyond ending the curse or wanting to live to grow old. What he did while growing old, how he lived that life, had never really been a consideration. Now that his individual quest assumed true purpose as part of a larger battle he and his companions fought together, now that he had real hope of defeating Naraku, he realized that he needed to take time and direct his thoughts to that question. Assuming there was a possibility he could have that normal life, what might he want to do with it?
The future was not something he was used to considering in any depth, it was not the sort of mental exercise his father or Mushin had ever dwelled upon. Miroku's eyes narrowed and he looked down to his cursed hand once again. Now that he was considering the question, he realized that he did not know what kind of future his father had wanted for himself or for his son, apart from the lifting of the curse. He had been too young for such conversations when his father was taken by the winds, it was just another of the many things time had robbed them of a chance to share. He thought about the solitary existence the two of them had led, alone in their travels or at the monastery with Mushin. He wondered if his father once had these same desires, not just for momentary pleasures but for a real future, a future with someone.
Miroku's eyes lifted towards Sango again and softened. She had beauty, strength, and intelligence. She would be a challenge to any man over the course of a lifetime, and she deserved a lifetime. Nothing less would suffice. With so much sadness and loss in her life already, it would be cruel to bring love into her life only to have it torn from her by an early (if somewhat spectacular) death. Love and a life with Sango. Was that the future, the 'not yet' he'd been avoiding considering?
He turned away again as the realization struck. He really had hit upon the true reason behind 'not yet'. The truth, as long as he was admitting it to himself, was that he already knew what he wanted. He did want Sango, and a life together. A long life for the both of them, filled with stubborn arguments, happiness, love and family and entirely free of pain. He would not be able to admit this desire to anybody else, least of all Sango. He couldn't tell her of these wishes until he was sure he wouldn't be the source of that pain.
Not yet.
Once more adopting his usual mask of calm good humor, Miroku quickened his steps and closed the distance between himself and his companions. A touch of mischief lit his eyes and his fingers flexed slightly in anticipation as he approached the ladies. ‘After all,’ he thought. ‘There's no use in planning my entire future now, and in the meantime I do have a lecherous reputation to uphold.’
Oh, and for the record I really don't own anything. All characters belong to Rumiko Takahashi.
Really.
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It was a quiet afternoon, warm and pleasant - the perfect day for a journey. ‘Which makes it all the more remarkable,’ the young monk thought to himself, ‘that we never seem to cross paths with anybody unless they need our help.’
A burst of laughter from up ahead brought him out of his thoughts, and Miroku took the opportunity to leave idle thoughts aside and turn his gaze towards his traveling companions without fear that his attention would be mistaken for anything more inappropriate than curiosity.
The girls walked side by side, with Kirara perched on Sango’s shoulder and Shippou riding in the basket of the bicycle Kagome pushed along. Their leisurely pace had already been the cause of more than a few snide comments from Inuyasha but, perhaps sensing the lack of bite behind the words, the girls did no more than give halfhearted apologies as they continued along without hurry. At a glance, it seemed Shippou was doing his best to encourage the relaxed and jovial mood because the little kitsune’s body language clearly showed that he was telling a tale, and in the grandest style possible for one who had yet to lose his milk teeth.
Miroku nodded to himself in silent confirmation - that explained the laughter. The little trickster was certainly good for providing moments of relief from the unrelenting seriousness of their ongoing mission, though for one so young he had an uncanny knack for providing just the information that would damn a man and none of the details that might redeem him. As if in response to his thoughts, Sango suddenly turned to glance at him over her shoulder, her eyes narrowed and brow set. That left no room for question about just exactly what the subject of this latest tale was. Lowering his eyes away from the taijiya’s dark gaze, he sighed and turned his face rather than rise to the bait.
Denied his opportunity to watch the small knot at the center of the group, Miroku focused instead on the lone figure some distance apart from them. Inuyasha walked on ahead leading the formation, his face presumably set in his customary scowl, as he put up a front of annoyance at being distracted from their mission. Miroku briefly allowed himself a small smile as he thought about that. After so many weeks in his company, he knew Inuyasha better than the hanyou would have admitted.
The truth was that Inuyasha was too responsible a leader to truly keep pushing them when it was clear that a break was long overdue. As a result, they were headed back to Kaede’s village for several days of rest and a trip home for Kagome. The monk's smile lingered because he knew the latter was the true reason for Inuyasha's poor mood. Perhaps the hanyou was thinking about that himself, because it seemed the rest of them managed to escape being growled at directly for a change. With Inuyasha's 'gentler' attitude, and having no particular urgency to their travel, it was really no surprise that the others' moods seemed to have taken a decidedly pleasant turn.
The girls' laughter continued in sporadic short bursts along with an occasional surprised exclamation from Sango and an accompanying quiet murmur from Kagome, which was undoubtedly an explanation meant to mitigate the damage the child was doing to his already tarnished reputation. His grip on the shakujou tightened slightly and a look of annoyance crossed his features. He briefly considered offering a few words in defense of his actions, but quickly decided against it. ‘The last thing I need to do is spoil the mood by picking an argument I don't have a chance of winning,’ he thought.
Finally, he just determined to ignore them altogether and fixed his gaze loosely on the road in front of him. He began preparing for a light state of meditation - altering his breathing, relaxing body and mind as he attempted to pull his thoughts inwards away from petty concerns to concentrate on.... His thoughts trailed off and he briefly closed his eyes.
Bringing his gloved hand up to brush his hair away from his forehead, Miroku sighed and turned his attention to the scenery at the side of the road. He might be named for a son of enlightenment, but Miroku was all too aware of his own failings where the realm of earthly pleasures was concerned, and he wasn't going to be able to properly clear his mind when there was such a pleasant distraction mere yards ahead of him.
Of course that sort of distraction was precisely what had upset Sango and prompted that icy glare just a few moments ago. While his reputation for shamelessness hadn’t especially bothered him before, the idea that Sango might think less of him based on his slightly.... Miroku paused again in his thoughts, his grip on his shakujou tightening and a small frown briefly marring his features before he adopted his composed countenance once again. No, if he was to be honest with himself, he worried about her reaction to his extremely checkered past. The thought of Sango losing respect for him bothered him in ways that he wasn’t quite ready to admit to himself.
Not yet.
His face remained calm, but a dark shadow touched his eyes and he looked down to his gloved hand. Flexing his fingers slightly he felt the gentle pull at the fabric across his palm as he continued thinking. After all, the problem with ‘not yet’ lay in the likelihood that the time to consider might well never come. With each use of his kazaana decreasing his lifespan, and the very real possibility that he might not survive to have his final confrontation with Naraku and lift the curse, everything had to be considered in the here and now whether he was prepared to deal with the consequences or not. Shaking his head slightly in an attempt to banish such morbid thoughts, Miroku turned to face forward again and took a moment to distract himself by watching the girls in front of him.
Sango and Kagome still seemed to be chatting but Shippou had quieted for the moment, increasing the chances that the topic of conversation had shifted away from anything that might get him into further trouble. Their postures were uncharacteristically relaxed and occasionally one would turn towards the other, presumably with a comment or an answer for her companion. His eyes lightened and his small smile returned as Kagome gestured with her hands, very obviously describing some sort of clothing item. Just watching them have such a simple, unguarded, normal journey acted as a balm for his troubled mind and he allowed himself to continue watching these precious moments. His gaze shifted from Kagome back to Sango's...figure and the smile broadened almost of its own accord. But then, what man could look on such a woman and not be taken with her? The smile threatened to break into a grin and he looked down once again so they couldn't accuse him of leering.
Perhaps this was, in fact, the time to start considering Sango and the obvious effect she had on him. The questions inherent in 'not yet' might not seem as insurmountable or as bleak when the very air around him was so obviously filled with companionship and good cheer. It could only be fortuitous to contemplate a pleasant future in such an atmosphere.
A future.
The thought shocked him back from his nascent fantasies and to a more schooled expression. He hadn't really thought beyond ending the curse or wanting to live to grow old. What he did while growing old, how he lived that life, had never really been a consideration. Now that his individual quest assumed true purpose as part of a larger battle he and his companions fought together, now that he had real hope of defeating Naraku, he realized that he needed to take time and direct his thoughts to that question. Assuming there was a possibility he could have that normal life, what might he want to do with it?
The future was not something he was used to considering in any depth, it was not the sort of mental exercise his father or Mushin had ever dwelled upon. Miroku's eyes narrowed and he looked down to his cursed hand once again. Now that he was considering the question, he realized that he did not know what kind of future his father had wanted for himself or for his son, apart from the lifting of the curse. He had been too young for such conversations when his father was taken by the winds, it was just another of the many things time had robbed them of a chance to share. He thought about the solitary existence the two of them had led, alone in their travels or at the monastery with Mushin. He wondered if his father once had these same desires, not just for momentary pleasures but for a real future, a future with someone.
Miroku's eyes lifted towards Sango again and softened. She had beauty, strength, and intelligence. She would be a challenge to any man over the course of a lifetime, and she deserved a lifetime. Nothing less would suffice. With so much sadness and loss in her life already, it would be cruel to bring love into her life only to have it torn from her by an early (if somewhat spectacular) death. Love and a life with Sango. Was that the future, the 'not yet' he'd been avoiding considering?
He turned away again as the realization struck. He really had hit upon the true reason behind 'not yet'. The truth, as long as he was admitting it to himself, was that he already knew what he wanted. He did want Sango, and a life together. A long life for the both of them, filled with stubborn arguments, happiness, love and family and entirely free of pain. He would not be able to admit this desire to anybody else, least of all Sango. He couldn't tell her of these wishes until he was sure he wouldn't be the source of that pain.
Not yet.
Once more adopting his usual mask of calm good humor, Miroku quickened his steps and closed the distance between himself and his companions. A touch of mischief lit his eyes and his fingers flexed slightly in anticipation as he approached the ladies. ‘After all,’ he thought. ‘There's no use in planning my entire future now, and in the meantime I do have a lecherous reputation to uphold.’