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Personification of Fluff
Author of 55 Stories |
Chapter Twenty-Four: Resolution
“Sango!”
“Ranma!”
“You!”
BLAM!
“You touch one hair on my girl’s head and I swear that the next bullet goes through your brain.”
Everything happened in a blur. The darkness lifted and Sango rubbed her eyes. Arms were holding her and strange smells and sounds assaulted her senses. Familiar eyes stared down at her, overflowing with concern and sympathy. Sango beamed up at Ranma. Never had she been so glad to see him. She barely recognized him with his worry and concern so evident on his face.
When Ranma had walked into the clearing and saw Miroku about to shoot Sango, he didn’t recall moving or thinking. Which was strange, because he had been thinking. He knew that if Sango died, Akane would never be the same and Miroku would never forgive himself for not fighting back more. He hadn’t been thinking of himself at all as he rushed forward and threw his body overtop of Sango’s to stop the bullet. Only when he heard Akane scream his name did he think for a second—a fleeting, freeing, uplifting second full of wonderful joy—that Akane would care if he died, too.
She loved him.
When Akane had seen that bullet heading for Ranma, she didn’t stop to think if she could. For a moment, all of her self-doubt had fled from her, screaming and tearing away with the knowledge that if she didn’t someone she loved would die. Her mind plummeted towards the bullet, straining her grasp. The speeding bullet tore and dug and her mind, burrowing further and further, but rotating slower and slower. It was painful, but Akane gritted her teeth and bore it.
The bullet stopped an inch away from Ranma’s head.
Shabranigdo was stunned. He turned to the others, intent to kill, when a bullet pierced his wrist. He snarled in pain and dropped the gun. He spun around, his teeth bared and his fangs cutting his bottom lip, staining them red. Kakashi stood, the grass bending down around him from the force of his fury. “You touch one hair on my baby girl’s head and I swear that the next bullet goes through your brain.”
He snarled. He could feel his hatred pumping through his veins, visible on every inch and limb of Miroku’s body. The monster lurking beneath the calm blue eyes had shown itself finally. Safely tucked away in Ranma’s arms, Sango let out a small squeak of fear. How could she have not seen it? How she could not have seen the obsession and the fury?
She wanted to rip off his head. She wanted to change and fling herself on him and sink her teeth down around that neck. She could feel the danger. He was a threat to her friends and the desire to protect them was rising steadily inside of her. The squeak turned into a low growl. Ranma’s arms tightened around her, trying to keep her out of the way. She thanked every deity she could think of for those thick arms. She couldn’t attack Shabranigdo. She had to keep a lid on her emotions. Miroku was in there. Miroku was alive in that body still! She knew he was!
“Don’t worry,” Ranma whispered in her ear. He was so close his voice was almost painfully sharp. “We have a plan.”
Just as Sango was wondering what the plan was exactly, a shining white figure cut through the trees. She took a moment to realize that it was Sesshoumaru. The unearthliness of his being had overwhelmed her for a shining moment. He was still himself: the same gentle white hair and glowing gold eyes and the thin purse of his critical, superior gaze. Gone was the Armani and Gucci black shoes. It was replaced with armor and a white haori. He was like spun moonlight. Glittering, proud, beautiful and deadly moonlight. Behind him, pursing her lips in a smaller version of Sesshoumaru’s stern expression, was Rin, armed with her own sword and well prepared to use it.
Shabranigdo’s anger was fueled by his presence. “You were supposed to be dead! You were… You bastard, Miroku! You told me he was dead!” There was an edge to that voice that made Sango think Miroku was fighting back. Although panicked, she could see the contempt and laughter in his eyes. Even Suichiro was staring in shock, finally seeing what lay beneath the seductive masked he had always seen. “No! No! You couldn’t have possibly lied to me! You told me they were dead! Fuck you! Fuck you, Miroku! I’ll see your soul tortured in the lowest bowels of hell for this treachery!” He spun around. “Where? Where are they? Where are you? Kuchiki Rukia! Kurosaki Ichigo! Show yourselves you incestuous…”
“Shut up,” Kuchiki drawled. Her eyes appeared dangerously bored.
This was not the Rukia which Sango knew, either. Nor was the man beside her Ichigo. Sango was finally seeing them for what they really were. Something deep inside of her, both human and demon alike, was urging her to bow her head in obedience and respect for the two tall beings in front of her.
Cloaked in black, Rukia seemed taller than Sango remembered. Her eyes were dark blue, verging on black, and against her dark hair her skin was as white and ivory as Sesshoumaru’s. Ichigo, in contrast, was deeply tanned. A large smile played on his face and his eyes flickered with something not unlike what she saw in Shabranigdo’s. But then the other Ichigo took over, and the level resolve had returned again, though the smile was still there. The black katana he held in his hand seemed to hum with energy yearning to be released.
“Start the spell, Rukia,” Ichigo commanded her. Rukia began to chant in a language Sango couldn’t identify. Ichigo’s eyes never left Shabranigdo as he held the sword ready, waiting for Shabranigdo to attack. “Don’t expect help from your demons, Brother. Our people have them surrounded. Don’t try to run, either. We don’t want to hurt Miroku.”
He laughed loudly. “Don’t put on that brave face for me, brother,” he spat the word out. “Don’t act so righteous and innocent! You know full well that you’ll need Miroku’s blood to close that portal! It won’t close until all my minions are gone, Miroku being one of them.”
Akane’s face fell at this news. She plucked the bullet where it was still frozen in midair and let it fall to the ground. She watched it disappear into the grass. It flickered as light began crackling forth in forked tongues of lightning. There was no sign of clouds or rain. Akane knew it was the spell. She could feel Sango’s eyes on her, furious and betrayed. Akane’s eyes were wet. “I didn’t know that they’d need his blood to do the spell,” she murmured.
“I know,” Sango sighed back. “He’s your friend too, after all. But… why do they need his blood?”
“Because it was his blood that summoned it to begin with,” the other girl sighed. “Remember? They needed the blood of his family. As the last of his line, only Miroku’s blood can close it… and even if there were another, like an uncle or something, he’s still a vampire. He’s still going to be sucked in because he’s a part of Shabranigdo now…”
For a moment, Sango’s heart had swelled with hope. Suichiro’s blood could close the portal, too, but his vampirism… “No!” Sango began fighting against Ranma’s arms. She was starting to understand why Akane always lost to Ranma. The man was strong; stronger than he looked. “No!”
Miroku was trapped. He wasn’t stupid enough to rush at Rukia, not while she was guarded by Sesshoumaru and Ichigo. He glanced at Suichiro, who was still standing there in shock and awe as he stared at the three demons. “Run, you fool!”
Miroku ran away from them. He was so busy thinking about them that he missed the punch flying out from the other edge of the clearing. A fist connected to his jaw, sending him down on the ground.
Rubbing her hand, Fuu appeared even more apologetic than perhaps she had meant to be. “Sorry, Miroku. I know that must have hurt you too. Please understand, honey, that we can’t let you leave.”
“Don’t worry, Fuu. Miroku’s a good boy.” Ferio seemed to materialize out of the leaves themselves as he wrapped an arm around Fuu’s slim shoulders. “I’m sure he understands what we’re doing.”
Shabranigdo smiled and launched himself at Fuu. Ferio’s kick connected with his sternum. Vampire or not, Miroku went down and stayed down, coughing as he tried to regain his breath. Ferio’s arm slipped down to hold hands with Fuu. He didn’t acknowledge that his eyes were wet, knowing that he had caused Miroku pain.
Miroku scrambled to another tree, trying to escape back into the forest. A sword pressed to his throat made him stop. There was fear in his blue eyes as he followed the tip of the weapon to the man who held it. Van showed no sign of compassion on his face. Instead, he appeared almost eager, encouraging Miroku to try and make it by him. He was waiting for an excuse to take off a limb.
“I see your wings have healed.”
“The IBSP has some very good healers,” Van countered.
Miroku’s upper lip curled up into a snarl. The flickering lightning made his dark hair shine blue. Van’s seemed red-tinted in contrast. “Makes it all the more fun for me to tear them off again when I get out of here.”
“Please, try.” His grip on the katana he held tightened and his eyes narrowed, eagerly awaiting a fight.
Miroku bolted in the other direction. The air around him solidified. He couldn’t walk past the edge of the clearing. He swore at the pink-haired girl hiding behind the solidified air. Her face flamed at his curses. The tiger sitting diligently beside her stood up, bristling and growling in anger. The pink-haired girl brushed the tiger’s head comfortingly. Then she said a few choice words back that left Shabranigdo’s ears burning.
He was surrounded. Akane, Ranma, Van, Merle, Sakura, Fuu and Ferio, Sango, Rukia, Ichigo, and Sesshoumaru all blocked in him. Even the trees had become a hindrance. He snarled, knowing that just Sakura’s power would have been enough to hold him temporarily. The IBSP was not pulling any shots. They were going all-out in an effort to cage him again. Despite all of his manipulations and careful, strategic moves, he had not succeeded in breaking the bonds which now imprisoned him.
He looked up at the sky. The lightning was coming faster now. Rukia was still chanting. He could feel Ichigo’s and Van’s eyes itching for him to make some move so that they could attack. His eyes burned at the brightness of the light above him. His hair swayed to the wind that circled around the clearing, as if they were at the eye of a hurricane. He could feel his hold weakening on Miroku’s body.
For a moment he was blinded as the light exploded. When his dancing vision cleared, the sky was light violet. It was the sky from home. He could feel it gripping at him, trying to force him out of that body through the ripping wind. He knew how it would work. He would go first, and then the others would follow. He didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to go back to that barren world. He liked this world.
He glanced at Suichiro. The man was beautiful, but worthless. He took a perverse joy in the pain and hurt that wounded Suichiro’s handsome face when he snarled, “I should have killed you when I had the chance. I never should have kept you alive. You were loyal to me, Suichiro, but you’re a fool.” Miroku’s lips lifted into a smile. “Meet your brother, Suichiro. Now say goodbye.”
It seems your pathetic race has once again won, Shabranigdo told Miroku. Though not without the help of Ichigo and Rukia. Without them, you would have lost.
Maybe, Miroku agreed, but we would have put up a hell of a fight first. If it came down to it, we’d make sure there was no body left for you to claim rather than live with your stench polluting us.
Shabranigdo laughed. He was walking towards the gun he had dropped earlier. If you truly wish martyrdom, lover, then I can at least succeed in giving you that. No one stopped him from picking up the gun. It felt strange in Miroku’s let hand. It wavered awkwardly as Miroku fought for control. You never would have done it. Not by yourself. Never by yourselves!
We’re never by ourselves, Shabby. Miroku lorded over the annoyance he felt from the demon god at the use of the nickname. Miroku was fighting the last tendrils of that control with everything he had in him. He had not fought back for that very reason, trusting in Sango with all of his heart. He knew that at one moment the demon’s hold would loosen and that would be when Miroku would fight.
What he had not expected, as he felt his mind regaining control, was the hands that took the gun from him. Suichiro knelt down beside him. His dark eyes were curious and cautious at the same time. “You’re my brother?”
Shabranigdo screamed in rage and pain inside Miroku’s mind. And Shabby, I’m not your lover.
Miroku smiled, and for the first time it was seemed like an eternity it was his own smile. He nodded. “I don’t know how, but I am. Rezo admitted it before he died. Did you know? Shabranigdo was the one who had him killed. She targeted the plane that he was on.”
“He… he what?”
Sango was watching it all in horror. The arms that had sheltered her now became objects of her fury as she struggled to get to Miroku. She was praying that the gun wouldn’t go off. What would she do if it did? She scratched and clawed and kicked, struggling to get to Miroku. His face had eased and lessened and slowly smiled. When his eyes opened, Sango knew that Miroku was whole again and himself. She bellowed out his name and felt it disappear in the thunder of the lightning overhead.
Ranma let her go. Sango scrambled with a tired and sore body and flung her arms around Miroku, kissing him. He kissed her back with such revelry that Sango felt she would die from happiness. Roaring from above them broke their kiss. All three in the centre of the clearing looked up to see Shabranigdo as he really was: a great horned monster letting out a roar from his beak. Clawed hands gripped the edges of the portal as his body tried to climb into this world. Wailing drowned out the demon’s cry as souls and bodies began pouring into the portal; a ghostly white stream dotted by spots of color.
Suichiro felt the color drain from his face. “That’s… that’s Shabranigdo…”
“Ugly bastard, isn’t he?” Miroku laughed bitterly.
He turned to look at the other vampire, feeling surprised when he realized that he was smiling wistfully. “I think that had my father realized this was the demon’s true form, he would not have spent his life trying to call it.”
Miroku nodded and turned, wrapping his arms around Sango and holding her close. He had to yell to be heard over the thundering portal, the wailing of the damned, and the roar of their maker. “They’re going back into the world in the order they were made. My soul is going to go second last. If there’s anything that you want to say to me, now’s the time, Sango.”
“I want to go with you!” Her long hair whipped around them. It wrapped over her mouth and stung her eyes, but Sango didn’t care. Her arms gripped his shoulders tightly.
“You know you can’t do that. Your place is here, with the rest of your friends and your family. And mine. You have to look after Fuu and Ferio and Ranma for me, okay?”
“But who’s going to look after you? Who’s going to watch your back?”
Miroku smiled broadly at her. The tears Sango had been struggling to hold back broke when she saw the man she loved still existed in Miroku. She had been so worried she’d never his eyes lighten with mischief or see him smile like that at her again. There were promises in his smile that Sango’s heart broke knowing she’d never see fulfilled. “I love you, Sango.”
She could feel his body starting to pull away. Sango’s grip tightened. The strength she had always been calling a curse around Miroku finally became an asset as she pulled him back down to Earth. Miroku’s hands were on hers, trying to unpeel her. As much as he loved her for fighting, he couldn’t bear the thought of her being dragged into that stream as well. He didn’t make any pretty arguments. He didn’t ask her to let him go. He knew that she’d never let him go.
“He can’t have you!” she cried, pulling him closer. “I’m not going to let him!”
Miroku felt warm. Sango’s arms wrapped around him and held him against herself. Warmth flooded around him from her, so vastly different from the cold and unearthly pull of the lightning above him. He heard her speaking, muttering to herself as if in a mantra. “You can’t have him. You can’t have him, Shabranigdo.”
Suichiro also felt the pulling at his body, but it was waiting. Shabranigdo was fighting harder to widen the portal and climb out, but it was arduous. The souls had shrunk the portal. All that remained were the clawed fingers and the gaping, beak-like maw as he roared, struggling to widen the hole. He and Miroku were the last two creatures Shabranigdo had made. The portal was waiting for them. It wouldn’t close until they were in it.
XX
Everything was golden. The wind and the lightning disappeared. Everything was suddenly as light as day. Sango found herself thinking of lemon tarts and oranges. Even the air tasted golden. She opened her eyes, still feeling Miroku’s body pressed against hers and still feeling his hands fighting her away. The sky was still dark, and the wind was still a torrent around them, sending her long hair flying around them and knotting mid-air. But there was another figure there too, fighting with them against Shabranigdo that neither Sango nor Shabranigdo nor Miroku had seen. Sango gasped. “Urahara…”
He bent down in front of them and touched Miroku. The man she held stopped fighting, but his eyes stared blindly ahead. It seemed that Kisuke was only allowing Sango to see him. When he finished speaking to Miroku, his eyes turned to her. They were almost shy, and were pure gold. No hint remained of the friendly blue eyes she had dreamed about when she was a younger girl. Only the scruff on his chin remained and the slight curl at the ends of his hair. His fingers touched her cheeks gently, and his other hand lay on Miroku’s hair. You both did a good job fighting Shabranigdo, while I sat by and did little. I will make amends for these mistakes. It is my turn to fight once more.
Sango tried to speak, but she couldn’t. Her mouth couldn’t seem to make the words.
He smiled at her, and his thumb brushed her cheek. The man you knew as Kisuke Urahara died on that plane. I was one of the originals, Sango. I continue to live in the other world, where part of me always lived. When I died, the part of me that was here returned there. So, you see, I am not as honest as you believed I was. I would have grown old and aged for you, but when the body died, I still would have lived on.
I am not going to tell you that I love you, Sango. I did not come here for that. I came through now, when the portal was open to where we hail from, to tell you the truth I owed you from the very beginning. In your world, there are three beings who control all: the Creator, the Sustainer, and the Destroyer.
No. Shabranigdo is the Sustainer. He controls lust, or love, and greed, and power… he Sustains. Rukia is known as the Creator. From her, all things were created. All of our kin came from her. The Destroyer, the Sun Lord, is Ichigo. Yes, that is what Akane always sensed underneath that calm exterior. Death can either be senseless or senseful. Always remember that. The Creator and the Destroyer joined together, and the Sustainer became bitter. He was excluded from their life. She made demons, he killed them, and all Shabranigdo had was the time in between. He became hard, and cruel, and lonely, Sango.
He became to change the beings made. He turned them into his own image: longer-lived, stronger, crueler, twisted, and beautiful. Soon, our world became over populated. Ichigo wished to destroy it all and start all over, but Rukia wouldn’t let him. Instead, they moved to a place they did not believe was inhabited, where they could begin all over again, and Shabranigdo, not wishing to be left alone, began to follow them.
They discovered this plane inhabited. Rukia deigned to make races which could co-exist alongside the humans who lived on the Earth in small, tribal patches. She turned first to the animals, bending and recreating them in a semblance of three things: animal, human, and Other, like them. Sesshoumaru is one of the first. As am I. I am, and will always be, kin to Ichigo and Rukia, Sango, and kin to Sesshoumaru.
In Greece, I was called Helios. In Egypt, I was Horus. I am known across many lands, and in all of them, I was the sun. I am like my father, while my brother takes after my mother. Now you know everything, Sango. You do not have to mourn for me, or miss me, for I will continue fighting our war with my kin, and one day, long after you are gone, I may return here, and help to try and rebuild the world that Rukia dreamed of, for the battle here is not done yet. There is still hope that we will win. You humans are strong-willed and intelligent. And loyal, he added, glancing down at the way Sango and Miroku clung to each other.
And so, because of that, I am charging you with a message for me, Sango. Miroku’s line, should it not die out with him, will continue, and may be used again for summoning Shabranigdo into this world. To prevent it, the de Foret line will protect it. Yes, Sango. Fuu and Ferio. Their child will protect yours, should both live. The key shall hide within the forest. Tell them for me, Sango… Thank you.
He glanced at Miroku again, and smiled cryptically. Then, without another word, he simply vanished. The pull on Miroku stopped suddenly. He was crying, or maybe laughing, as the wind and the sound and the flashing lights from above suddenly tore back into the world. The fight was still going on.
Sango turned to Suichiro. The man was lifting into the air. He stared at them, almost jealous, and then smiled. “I hear someone tell me that there was a war going on in the other side. Maybe I’ll fight, if they’ll have me. Don’t tell Miroku I’m doing it for him, because I’m not. I don’t want to boost his ego. I’m doing it for my father.”
She nodded and he smiled at her. Then there was this strange kind of a pull, and simply vanished into a stream of light, vanishing into the portal.
The gentle lull was over. Everything was screaming and chaos again. Sango’s ears hurt as Shabranigdo, still fighting through the hole in the sky. “We need to stop it!” Sesshoumaru cried, holding Rin close to his leg to shelter her from the wind. “Rukia!”
The short woman was close to her husband, pressed tightly to him the same way the white-haired demon held Rin close. “We need the blood first to start shutting the hole, and then the sacrifice will shut it behind them!”
Sango could hear them. “It’s already done!” she hollered, trying to fight through the wind. “Shabranigdo… the last demon he ever made was Suichiro! He turned Suichiro into a vampire!”
“How do you know?” Ichigo yelled back, coming closer to them.
Her arms tightened around Miroku, as if she feared it was a plot to get to him to make him bleed. She stammered, caught off surprise. “I… I… Shabranigdo took me over for an hour or two yesterday. Miroku managed to help me force him out using a telepathic link.” She registered how Ichigo and Rukia looked surprised at this information, studying Miroku with a new and appreciating expression.
“That’s how Shabranigdo was able to get inside Miroku. While we were one, I could learn from Shabranigdo. Suichiro is his brother. His brother never died in the house fire. Somehow, Rezo rescued him. I didn’t tell Miroku because I thought it would be too hard on him. Shabranigdo thought the same thing, and he wanted to hide Suichiro so he couldn’t be used against him. He killed Rezo to keep him silent and to punish Rezo for the silence he had kept all these years. That’s…” She stumbled, finding the words painful. “That’s why the plane that Urahara was on blew up. Rezo was on it, too.” “Rukia…” The red-headed man was turning to see the sky. The gate had changed color, the opening burning blood red. Rukia saw it too. Everyone stood in silence at it. Sango felt little pity knowing that Suichiro was dead and was surprised at it. Miroku’s brother or not, he had been a cruel and evil person, obsessed with power and sex, and yet at the very end, something in him had changed…
“It’s time.”
She smiled sadly and stepped away from him. The wind tore at her black cloak and her hair. “Ichigo, I will see you again soon. It will only be a short while, love.”
“Yes, it will be. Take care of our family.”
She looked confused for a moment, trying to figure out which family he meant. Then he shoved her towards Van, who dropped his sword and caught her clumsily. In a moment, Ichigo vanished, as if he never was. The only trace which remained of him was the bent grass beneath where he had last stood. Rukia called out his name, and with a pop and a crunch, the portal closed. The wind faded, and the only sound in the clearing was the sound of Miroku’s soft sobs of tearful laughter and Rukia’s wailing screech.
She was still sobbing. “You’re right. Always right, Sesshoumaru. You’re a pain in the ass in that way.”
“What kind of son would I be if I weren’t a pain in the ass now and then?”
She forced herself to smile a little, stroking his cheek fondly and then throwing her arms around him. To do so meant she had to dangle her legs off of the ground as he hugged her back. Rin waited patiently to the side for her turn to hug and be hugged.
Akane stood up, Ranma standing dutifully by her side. Slowly, his hand snuck into hers. She watched the people around the clearing hugging and kissing and crying. They were all happy. The clearing felt strangely quiet without the howling wind and the roar from that awful, beaked monster. “That’s it?” she asked. “It’s over? Shabranigdo is gone?”
Rukia nodded, tears still making her dark eyes glisten. She was beautiful when she cried. “Yes. He’s gone; sealed away again… hopefully for another few thousand years again. We can all go home.”
Van picked up Merle, swinging the young girl on to his bag. She giggled, her tail wavering behind her as Sakura looked on, feeling a little lonely. “I’m looking forward to finally seeing Hitomi again.”
“I am too!” Merle agreed cheerfully. Her smile broadened as Ranma came and swung Sakura up to his back. Teenager as she may have been, Sakura blushed and looked delighted. Merle smiled at her friend. “We’re going home, Sakura! Want to sleep over?”
Akane laughed, motioning for Ranma to go ahead with Van and the others. She wanted to wait around to see what was happening with Miroku and Sango. Sesshoumaru motioned for her to go. “Take Rin with you,” he told her. “This isn’t for you to see.”
She arched an eyebrow. “But Sango’s my best friend and my partner. So’s Miroku,” she quickly added, pressing her point.
The tall man wouldn’t be moved. “Akane, you have done us a great service. We will not forget that we owe you a great boon for your loyalty. This matter, however, does not concern you.” She looked ready to fight over it. Sesshoumaru mentally sighed. Women were all the same. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I promise you that both Miroku and Sango will be along in a moment or two. Now, leave, Tendo Akane.”
“But…” His eyes flashed red and he snarled at her. Akane sighed. He could never stand to be a decent guy for me than five seconds. “Fine, fine. Come on, Rin. Let’s go catch up with Ranma.” She swung the girl on to her back. Rin giggled. She had been feeling left out, but now everything was peachy keen again.
That only left Sesshoumaru, Rukia, Kakashi, Fuu, Ferio, and the two people in the centre of it all: Miroku and Sango. Miroku was no longer laughing or crying. His eyes were closed. Exhaustion had crept up on him and he’d fallen asleep in Sango’s arms. Sango, still injured and bleeding, refused to let him go as she clung to him. She was afraid that if she loosened her grip on him that somebody would take him away from her. Tears stains had cleaned tracks from the blood and dirt on her cheeks. Her hair was knotted and wet leaves clung to it, but their parents still thought they looked like the perfect couple.
“I’m not going to let you take him, Sesshoumaru,” she said, clinging to him tighter. She sniffled loudly and buried her cheek against his disheveled, black hair. “The portal didn’t take him. Vampire or not, Miroku’s a good person and you’d know he’d never hunt humans down.”
Sesshoumaru pressed his lips and arched an eyebrow. “And you’re clearly delusional, Sango.” He paused and peered down at Miroku. “That man is not a vampire. Of course we’re not going to arrest him.”
She bristled in surprise. Her nose sniffed. Miroku didn’t smell human. She had just assumed he was still a vampire. The problem was that, now that she looked, he didn’t smell completely like a vampire, either. It was hard to tell because of the other scents that covered him. She leaned her head, burying her face in his hair and letting his scent just wash over her. She didn’t know what he smelled like. He smelled like blood and leaves and the acrid scent of gunshot residue and sweat… He smelled good, but he wasn’t human or a vampire. He was just… other.
Sesshoumaru sighed. Everyone was waiting for an answer from him or Rukia. The two glanced at each other and he yielded the floor. Rukia motioned for people to sit down. If they wanted the entire story, it was going to take awhile to tell. She sat down cross legged on the grass. She supposed she should start off with something simple. “Sango will retain her job at the Independent Bureau. While she will be punished for going against a direct order and releasing a prisoner, she will not lose her job.”
“What will I be punished with, then?”
“You will be removed from active duty. You will no longer be allowed to chase criminals, Sango.”
Her jaw dropped. “But that… that’s what I do! And what about Akane? Won’t she be affected by this, too? You can’t punish both of us; especially not Akane! Not when she’s been so loyal to you!”
“Of course we can’t. Akane now outranks you. It was made clear to us that Ranma was going to propose to Tendo Akane the moment that Shabranigo was defeated. I suppose he’s already doing it now. Their marriage, as you know, will elevate them to the position of senior member. While they may not yet hold the rights and responsibilities, I believe that the eight months Fuu has before she starts her maternity leave will be adequate time to train them in their responsibilities. You will be moved someplace where partnership is not required…” Rukia arched an eyebrow, staring at Sango. “Sesshoumaru, I believe that there is an opening in the research and development division?”
“I believe there is, Rukia.”
She smiled. “I also believe that Tora Sango meets all the requirements for that position… or will next year when she finishes her bachelor of sciences. We will, therefore, hold the spot open for Sango until she completes her degree. If she wishes, she may then join that division.”
Sango was numb. Research and development? The Bond level? It was all she had ever wanted! “Yes!” she cried, smiling. “I’ll take it!” Rukia stared at her sternly and Sango coughed, dropping her voice. She shifted Miroku in her arms. “I mean, I accept my punishment. In fact, I wish for it to start immediately.”
“Well, that can’t be done. You will have your gun and license revoked for eleven months, Sango.” She was about to protest but Rukia winked at her. “That particular area is hard to get into. It requires excellent grades. I expect that you will have a lot of free time in those eleven months to study and focus on your education to get the best grades you can. Urahara knew you could it,” she added softly. “He’s always had a spot open for you in that division.”
“But… Miroku will have lost his partner as well,” Fuu said softly. “What will he do?”
“Miroku has a job at the university,” Rukia said. “He will not be able to keep it longer than three or maybe four years. In the form he is in now, he will no longer age at the proper speed. If I know my Urahara well, and I do, he has matched Miroku’s aging process to Sango’s.”
“Urahara-sama could do that?” Sango asked in a whisper.
Rukia nodded. “Miroku knows what happened to him. That’s why he was laughing and crying, Sango. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. It’s the first rule of science. Shabranigdo gained the power to transform people from human to demon. He does not have the power to take away vampirism; he can only create it. Oh, he can manipulate things, take other things away, and he can destroy. He moved Inuyasha’s sight to Rezo, but he couldn’t take unmake Inuyasha from a youkai to a human. The world would have been out of balance had that ability not be unchecked. So we gave that power to Urahara. He could not make a demon, but he could unmake one.
“That was why so much of his personal research was devoted to the study of genetics. He could do something, and yet his precious science could not explain how. He could do something, but he could not explain how it was done.
“Miroku can teach, if he still wants to, for a few years. After that, if he still wishes to remain part of the IBSP, there will be a place for him in the library.”
Fuu sighed and hugged her husband. “Ferio! The library! Miroku would love that—getting to be around all those books all the time!”
Her husband laughed and kissed her hair, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her into his lap. His gold eyes were dancing. “Yes,” he agreed. “Our son would love that job very much. I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear it. But that still doesn’t mean that we entirely understand. We’re grateful—more than grateful! But what is Miroku? What can he do?”
Rukia shook her head. “That I do not know. We’ll have to wait until he wakes up. Perhaps Urahara told him. I was not privy to the conversation.”
“Why do you keep bringing up Urahara? He’s… he’s dead… isn’t he?” Fuu asked. She glanced around, her eyes landing on Kakashi.
Sango’s uncle reached up and pulled down the cloth covering his face before running his hands through his hair and leaning back on the grass. “I know everything already. Sorry Fuu, Ferio. I wasn’t supposed to tell. Urahara is and will continue to be my best friend. Sometimes, he was my only friend. I’ve known what he was since I was a junior member like Sango. He told me in strict confidence because I had told him what I was.”
Fuu’s voice was cautious. “And just what are you?” She was starting to worry that everybody in the building was turning out to be frighteningly powerful or old. She just wanted someone normal, like her or Ferio.
He shrugged, trying to be casual, but there was tension in his voice. “I’m a homosexual.”
Fuu stared at him. She could feel Ferio hiding a snicker in the curls of blonde hair around her neck. “Are you certain that you’re not an extraterrestrial? Or another deity? You’re just…gay?” She could hear Sango snickering too. Kakashi was smiling, not taking offense. He didn’t even bother to answer. Fuu sighed. “Well, that’s a relief. It’s nice to know that there’re still normal people in the IBSP.”
“I guess I’ll have a little bit more free time than I wanted to have this summer,” she said, smiling wryly. “Tell him that I’ll be at the cottage if he wants to come and talk to me. I’ll be waiting for him.”
She went home. Eventually, Akane drifted in, her eyes glazed over in an expression of utter joy. Seeing Sango’s silent agreement, Akane pounced her friend. “He kissed me! He kissed me and it was glorious, and oh, Sango! Ranma’s a closet kisser.”
“Closet kisser?”
“Yes! He’s the best kept secret in the IBSP! Wow! Just… wow, Sango! I mean, you wouldn’t think that Ranma would even want to kiss, or that he’d have a good grasp of how to do it but…” Her face flushed as she recalled the way his arms and held her close as his lips molded against hers. She had always seen those passionate, hungry kisses in bad television shows, but experiencing it was completely different. She had felt herself become swept up in the passion of that kiss, forgetting even to breathe. And when her thoughts finally did resurface to her mind, it was that she wondered if Ranma would put that much passion in everything he did with her and her knees went weak at the very idea. “God, it was worth waiting for!”
Sango slipped into the couch, clutching a pillow to her chest and snuggling tightly between the back of the couch and the arm. “I felt that way when I kissed Miroku,” she said, smiling. “Did he really ask you, then?’
Akane blushed rose up past her hair line and she nodded vigorously.
“And?” Sango prompted. “What did you say? How did he ask?”
“Oh, you know,” she blushed, digging around into the fridge in avoidance of the subject. “It’s Ranma. I love him dearly, but it takes Armageddon to make him admit his feelings. He just said that he wanted to marry me, and that he thought he could make us a good home, and he wanted his kids to be as strong as an ox, just so long as they got his looks…” Akane sighed, leaning on the counter with a glass of orange juice in one hand. “And that he loves me, and he doesn’t care who knows it, because if they so much as look at me inappropriately he’s going to knock them out, so the world better be warned. God, I love him. How’s Miroku?”
She shrugged. “Last time I saw him he was still asleep. I figured that I’d let him recuperate before we talk. I don’t think that it’s going to be a pleasant talk.”
“Yelling?”
She shook her head. “No, pointing fingers. I don’t care what he blames me for, so long as he smiles at me and maybe gropes me.” Her friend arched an eyebrow, having lost count of the times Sango bitched about Miroku’s wandering hands. Sango returned her suspicious expression with a tentative smile. “I just seem to remember that whenever our lives get stressful, he completely backs away from me physically and won’t get close to me. If he could just reach out and hold me, or better, to try and elicit a blush or a laugh from me by groping me, then I feel like everything would just be normal again.”
The door bell rang. Home alone, Sango immediately went to answer it, still busy thinking about the structure, parts, and purpose of the human cell. She nearly froze when she found Miroku standing on her door step, his hands dug tightly into the pockets of his jeans. Actually, she did freeze, and she just kept staring.
Miroku kept changing on her and it wasn’t fair. Before, when he had been human, he had always been charming and witty and it had showed in the expression of his clear grey eyes and the wit that edged his words. He had been amazingly attractive, but it had been a classical kind of attraction. As a vampire he had possessed unearthly beauty, with pale, flawless skin and eyes that flashed the light back at you in a violet sheen. It been a dangerous, deadly attraction and any hint of the man Sango had first fallen in love with had been trapped under the porcelain expression and the cold demeanor of his nature.
Now he was neither, and yet both. As he moved, his eyes still flashed for a moment when the sun struck them, highlighting deep wells of a violet haze, but his skin was far from porcelain. Lines caressed the corners of his mouth and his cheeks burned brightly. He smiled at her when she opened the door and Sango’s heart nearly burst at the way the corners of that sensual mouth turned up into a charming, lopsided and devilish smiled she had missed.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
She held up a hand, taking a moment longer to look over his body, enjoying the way the things she saw were at once both familiarly human and exotically other. Her eyes flicked back up to his and she stepped out of the way, motioning for him to enter. Miroku marched in, slipping off of his shoes.
“Do you want to talk in the living room?” he asked as he stacked his shoes against the wall of the entrance.
Sango frowned, but slowly nodded. “Did you want something to drink?”
“Sure.” He laughed, as if it were funny that she was offering him something to drink. It made Sango pause, but he glanced up at her and smiled, winking. “Don’t worry. I can ingest human food. Anything you’ve got is just fine, Sango, but I think I’d prefer a glass of water. It’s a long way out here.”
“Did you walk or something?”
“Nope.” There was a sigh as he stood back up. Sango smiled, opening the fridge door for some cold water. He sounded sore. “I biked.”
Ah, that explained that then. It also explained why he looked flushed. Sango poured two glasses of water and passed one to Miroku as he walked by the kitchen. She picked up her own glass, reflecting on how fluidly they worked around one another, like clockwork. It was refreshing.
“So.” Sango slowly climbed up on her favorite side of the couch, her trustworthy pillow in her clutches with her water beside her on the coffee table. Miroku arched an eyebrow but did not inquire about her obviously defensive behavior. “You’re looking good.”
“I feel better than I ever did before. I couldn’t have biked out here without a coughing fit before all of this happened. Now my lungs don’t hurt at all. Look.” He unbuttoned his t-shirt and pulled it aside to reveal the top of his pectorals. There was sign of the scars that had once been such a strife to him. “It’s like it never even happened. I’m stronger than a normal human. I’m faster than a normal human. But I still can’t win against Ranma, so it keeps me humble.”
She felt herself smile at the silent laughter in his eyes. “But it still doesn’t explain what you are,” Sango said.
“I’m Miroku. Isn’t that enough?” he shrugged.
Sango sighed. “I wish it were. It answers who you are, Miroku. It doesn’t answer what you are, no more than it would if I said that I was Sango rather than being half-human or a tiger-shifter. You were still Miroku when you were a vampire, and I’m aware that you’re still Miroku now, but… I…” The rest of her words failed her and she let them trail off, sinking back into the couch.
“You just don’t feel level with me because you don’t understand what I’m capable of anymore, is that it?” She nodded, her expression grateful. “Unfortunately, we’re both in that boat, Sango. I don’t know what I’m exactly capable of, either. I mean, I’m not exactly human anymore, but I’m not exactly a demon either… I’m dead, Sango.”
He’d been staring out the window as he spoke, almost half-consumed by his own thoughts rather than the conversation at hand. Slowly, he turned to her, his eyes a stormy, serious grey. “I’m not being metaphorical, Sango. Kikyou killed me when I was turned into a vampire. I’m a walking contradiction, now. I breathe, but I’m technically dead. I need to eat, but I’m technically dead. I bleed and feel pain, but I’m technically dead. And I’ll age, even though…”
“You’re technically dead. Why technically?”
“Because my heart hasn’t beaten since I was changed over. By today’s sciences, you can’t be alive unless you have a heartbeat. Urahara changed it when he undid whatever Shabranigdo had done to me. I don’t need human blood to live, I don’t get blinded by sunlight, I’m not as strong telepathically as I was before, and I will age and eventually die. But technically I’ve already died once. I just came back, like, a week later.” A frown made his eyebrows draw closer together, lines of concentration wrinkling his brow. “So, yeah, you’re not the only one who doesn’t understand what I am.”
“How strong is your empathy?”
He arched an eyebrow, pulling himself out of his serious self-examination. “With you? Unsurpassed. With anyone else? I can feel emotions, now and then see a few flashes of color to hint at their mood, and if they aren’t skilled at guarding their thoughts, sometimes I can read them. Oh, and,” he said, straightening. Sango felt light, cool fingertips race up her arm to brush her hair back from her shoulders for her. Miroku gave a small smile of childish delight. “I can do that. It’s all illusion and suggestion implanted directly into someone’s mind.”
Sango shivered and wrapped her arms around herself to press her warm palm into where that ghostly hand had laid and chilled her shoulder. “So… you’re…”
“New,” Miroku suggested with a wink, lazily reclining back and sipping his water as he stared at her. “But I didn’t come here to talk about me. I came here to talk about us.” Sango immediately tried to bolt but in a blink he was leaning over to her side of the couch, his hand against her opposite shoulder as he kept her from bolting. There was a flicker of pain in his eyes. “Would I bother to come here to tell you that I never want to see you again when we already had broken up?”
“When… oh. The letter.”
Now he frowned. “Yes. The letter. Your letter. No…” He sighed and the hand on her shoulder slowly patted her apologetically. “I’m being accusative and I don’t want to do that. Ugh. Where do I begin…”
He groaned and leaned back against his side of the couch. Sango could see his muscles stretch and pull underneath his shirt and discreetly looked away. Eyeing him would not help their conversation. “Sango, I’m not going to beat around the bush. I’m willing to put everything behind us since the night when we slept together. As far as I’m concerned, nothing else happened between us between then and now. I’m never going to use how you acted against you—or I’m going to sincerely try my best not to—and I don’t want you to hold it against yourself, either.”
Sango’s cheeks burst into a vibrant blush of color. She had been holding it against herself and now that her secret was out she felt ashamed. Her eyes lowered, she didn’t notice him move closer to her until her cool fingertips brushed her warm cheeks. She leaned into the touch, having missed those gentle caresses.
His throat clenched as he tried to speak. “Sango, I…” His heart beat in his chest so strongly that his words failed him. He cursed himself mentally, letting his hand fall to her shoulder as his other hand lifted her chin up. “Sango, if I’m going to tell you that I love you, won’t you at least do me the courtesy of looking at me when I say it?”
Her lips parted as she stared at him, rather taken aback, but pleased at the smile he wore. Miroku slowly pulled her pillows out from under her arms so that he could draw her closer to him. “Being… having Shabranigdo inside of me gave me a new perspective on some things. When he was in control of my body, he was showing me pieces of you. He would laugh at me, telling me what he was planning on doing to you…”
Here his grip tightened and his lips pulled back into a snarl so ferocious the vampire that still existed in Miroku rose to the surface before he got it under control once more. “And then he’d tell me that you loved me to make the sting of it all that worse. I already knew that you loved me though, because you had told me that yourself. I just hadn’t understood until I saw it through your own eyes.”
Miroku paused delicately, glancing away from her and licking his lips nervously. He knew how she felt about him, but this was still hard. “Sango, I want to start over again. I’ve wanted to start over again since my commencement. I’ve asked almost everyone I know about how to ask you because I wanted you to remember it for the rest of your life, but… Sango, I want you to marry me.”
Sango’s lips parted as her draw dropped slightly. She only managed to get out a soft sound of surprise before Miroku was speaking again, digging into his pocket and pulling out a velvet covered box.
“I’m serious, Sango. I want to start all over again with you as my fiancée. But there’s one condition on my offer, Sango.”
She drew back, concerned. “Condition?”
Miroku nodded. "The child. I want you to have it."
Sango's skin suddenly felt cold. She turned away from him, the grip in her fifts as she held them over her knees almost painful. Her voice was softer. "You... you know about that, then?"
"Of course I do." The note of bitterness in his voice made Sango's heart sting. When she glanced at him, she found that his eyes had darkened to a deep, sapphire blue. "Shabranigdo would mock me about that, too. I found out from him. It hurt--I would have preferred hearing about it from you, Sango. Why didn't you tell me?"
At first she simply shurgged. Then she felt that gaze switch tracks, from questioning to patronizing. He knew she was lying and avoiding the question. "I... I was scared."
"Of what?"
"I don't know! Of hearing you say that you didn't want it! Of hearing you say that you did want it! I don't even know how I feel about it!"
"Do you want to keep it?" he asked suddenly. He watched as Sango bit her lip apprehensively. The expression stung. His long-lashed eyes were somber. “I don’t know if I can have anymore children, Sango. We’re lucky enough to have one now. It was a once in a lifetime chance, Sango! I want to have this child with you. I know that it’ll be difficult, especially for you, and you’d be losing school time because of it, but… I want us to have this child!”
His voice cracked and he set the box on the couch between them to take one of Sango’s hands into his own. “Bear my child, Sango. Please?” When her eyes remained locked on the box and the gold ring therein, she didn't answer. His grip tightened a little and his voice was almost begging, but it was the eyes that killed her. He had always had such pretty eyes. "Please, Sango?"
"What about my schooling? What about my job?"
"You know that there'll be there waiting, and I'll help Sango, in whatever way I can. You know that. I'm not saying it'll be easy, but we can do it--together."
She smiled and felt a familiar itch on the apple of her cheeks. She was crying. Sango lifted a hand to brush Miroku's dark hair away from his eyes from him. "Okay, Miroku. Together."
AN: I was debating doing an epilogue, but it wasn't really happening. So instead, it ends like this, as one long chapter. Thank you for putting up with me and my crazy-assed stories. It was quite an adventure. I was plagued with rabid plot-bunnies and I was really happy to have such a plot-heavy story rather than focussing on character development, as I usually do. I hope that it was worth it for you, my beloved readers, as well. Have a safe and happy 2007, everyone!
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