Hiyoooo! *waves* happy belated big dead bird day! ^_^ I've gotten the chapter up within the week, just like I promised! *proud of herself for doing this* this is the last chapter *cries* but have fun anyways! This chapter is all about…"THE MOMENT"
After the day's events, sleep evaded her. The thoughts of what had happened and what she had done pestered her to no end.
Kagome, though reluctantly, had filled her in on the events of the past few weeks. It was Kagome, though, so she knew it was sugarcoated. She couldn't stand to hurt someone, even in an indirect way.
So she was left to rely on herself. She groped for a memory, a conscious realization that she had chosen to lose herself to Naraku, to attack Miroku, so she had something to blame it on…but only her empty mind greeted her. And with Miroku…she glanced over at his sleeping form a few feet away.
Kagome had told her earlier that he hadn't slept a full night since she'd returned. "He was too busy worrying about you," she said, "he hardly slept at all." That gesture touched her strangely.
She was slightly miffed at Kagome and the others for leaving her in a room with this pervert. He insisted that he wanted to watch over her when he was sleeping, and had promised not to try anything…
"…but promises are cheap," she muttered to herself. There wasn't a single positive emotion present in her soul. She felt guilt, remorse, fright, anger, anxiety, depression, and panic all at once.
"God," she crawled off of her futon and in front of the sleeping houshi. "Damn. It. I hate it all. Everything. The people I care about always leaving me alone. Always," she finished fiercely. Was she angry? Angry at Miroku?
Oh, terrific, she thought sarcastically, there's another fun filled feeling to add to my repertoire. On top of it all, she was angry at him, too.
The sudden heat gathering behind her eyes and burning in her nose surprised her.
She'd never been able to communicate her sadness onto her face like most people; rather, she sat alone in a dark, small bundle of misery.
Sango welcomed the tears and let them rush down her face in hot rivers, cooling themselves by the time they reached her chin. She did not bother to wipe them away in the blaze of her sobbing.
Suddenly, a stirring beside her made her froze. She'd forgotten what a light sleeper he was.
"Sango?" Miroku mumbled sleepily, rubbing one eye with his hand. "what are you…"
"Don't look at me," she snapped, turning her face away from him and hiding in the shadows.
"Are you crying?"
"Why would I be—" she was betrayed by a sudden hiccough, but continued speaking anyways, "would I be crying?" She tried to make her voice sound impermeable, but he could see right through her.
"You are crying."
"I am not." She shuffled over to her futon and sprawled onto it, facing the wall.
For a moment he didn't say anything and she thought he was going back to sleep, but in an instant she felt his presence over her shoulder.
"Tell me why you are crying. Maybe I can help you."
That was too much for Sango to bear. She turned on him, her tear-streaked, red face flashing at him for an instant.
"You!" she screamed, "it's all you, dammit! Stop trying to make it better, because you won't, because there's nothing you can do, is there, Miroku?"
He was taken aback by her accusations turning on him. It took him a second longer to realize that one word was ringing in his ears- Miroku. She'd dropped the formal, familiar "houshi sama" in her fury for something that he'd longed to hear out of her mouth. It just wasn't the same hearing it out of her mouth when she hadn't remembered him.
"Sango chan…" words failed him, and he mentally cursed his lack of communication. For a thousand emotions had presented themselves to him at that moment, but he couldn't utter one.
"I'm sorry," he said simply, apologizing for everything he'd ever done to her-hurting her, touching her, loving her.
Her chest kept heaving in and out for air, but her eyes went wide. In those two simple words, she felt every one of his emotions as clearly as she felt her own.
"You don't know how much I worried about you," he continued, finally finding words, "It was so agonizing to me that you were so close, yet so far from me. Here in body, but your heart lost to me forever." His voice still rang with pain as he recalled those painful hours.
She felt his wanting, then. He didn't want them to be two separate people alone in their suffering; and she wanted to help him, too.
"I should be the one apologizing," she said slowly, looking down with shame clouding her eyes. She did not want him to see it. "I allowed myself to be fooled…doubted you….attacked you….worried you….I wish there was some way I could make you realize how sorry I am…"
Just the mere thought of all these things brought a fresh batch of tears to her eyes.
She almost did not hear his voice softly cutting through the single teardrop running down her face. "There is way."
She was shocked to feel his hand on her chin pushing it up gently. Until now they had not touched; there seemed to be a physical barrier between them. Neither had wanted to touch the other, to break that vow of light chastity.
"I won't forgive you unless you kiss me."
Miroku closed his eyes, hoping she wouldn't slap him.
Opening them a crack, he saw her staring at him. Her mouth was slightly agape, eyes unbelieving and still full of tears.
Finally, a smile broke through a little bit. She didn't know whether she wanted to laugh at him or slap him.
"I shouldn't have been so surprised, Miroku. It's just like you to say something like that." Her voice, though still clogged with tears, was laced with amusement.
"So will you?"
She looked at him then. The fire had died a while ago, but the slight embers still lit up his eyes, and the expression on his face was hinted towards her. She saw the wanting; it cut through her like a knife. It matched what she felt inside perfectly. They just couldn't deny it any more…it was like hot coal, being passed back and forth between them. The pain built up and became too much to bear any longer, so one of them had to drop it. Sango took a deep breath.
His eyes softened, and he looked more serious than she had ever seen him look before.
Sango struggled to still her racing heart.. It was so silent in the room that she thought he had to have heard it.
As his face grew so close that he became a blur, she instinctively tilted her head and let their lips touch.
At first it was only a brushing of a kiss as their lips tested one another out, tasted one another for the first time.
Soft. That was the first word that appeared in Sango's mind His lips were so soft. Their warmth seemed to rush through her whole body.
But the most shocking sensation was the living, throbbing emotion that the kiss had unlocked. A blinding, soaring passion lying over a deep feeling of contentment.
As if…this was the right thing. As if she was home.
Her brain had given up trying to figure out Miroku long ago. Some days he would lead her into believing her felt the same way about her as she did for him, but in the next instant he acted politely distant as usual.
But now…now he finally forced her to admit to herself what she had denied for so long.
She was in love with the perverted monk. Deeply, passionately, truly.
The kiss, which had started out chaste and innocent, a mere repenting action, grew deeper. Sango felt his tongue licking her lips, and she parted them a little bit.
It seemed there was no satisfying this annoying feeling. The longer she was intoxicated by the spirit of the kiss, the more of him she wanted…but the more she got, the more she wanted. Both of them held on to one another, not because they wanted one another, but because they needed one another.
So inexperienced was she. Miroku seemed to know exactly what was going on and where they were headed while she, Sango, blindly let him lead.
Cautiously, tentatively, as if she was not sure if this was the right thing to do, she wrapped her arms around his neck and lightly stroked the warm skin where the tiny hairs grew.
She felt his body stiffen as a shiver ran through him.
"Sango…" he whispered, his voice more sigh than sound. His lips moved from hers and began caressing her face with them, leaving a trail of moist skin.
She clutched onto his robes. This wasn't leading to where she thought it was…was it? But it did not matter, because emotions overpowered her mind long ago. There was no way to protest anyways; her body would not let her.
Each kiss, each touch, induced a wave of emotion that made her feel helpless. Suddenly, he drew away, leaving her trembling for more, more, more.
"what are you doing?" She asked awkwardly. Had she displeased him in some way? She untangled herself from his robes and stared up at him.
Miroku noticed how her eyes looked different. They were naked; there was no shield over them now, protecting her true emotions from him. Now all he could see was the raw passion and strength there. Mixed in was the smallest bit of fear. Seeing her like that unnerved him. It was as if he was looking straight into her soul. Somehow, this was worse than seeing her physically stripped.
"I'm sorry," he said softly.
He'd crossed over the line. He loved her, but she was not his. As much as he acted like a lecher, he would never take advantage of a girl just so he could get a child, especially Sango, and he'd come damn close.
"Sango chan, you are not mine. I can't…"
"But…"She pursed her lips, but the shield still did not come down over her eyes.
"I can't let you love me."
"I don't care," she said, "It hurts me more to know you're so close…" a blush spread across her face, and she seemed to have trouble finishing.
"So close, and so far from me," she finally stammered out, echoing his earlier statement.
Her face was the color of a tomato now, and she groped for something to fix her eyes on- anything- and found herself staring at his right hand.
"It's ugly, isn't it?" He said softly, "it makes me dirty, this curse. I thought no woman could ever love someone like me. But you, you were the first girl ever to shed tears for me."
"You're not dirty!" She said a little to loudly, surprised at his sudden confession.
His only response was to put a finger to her lips to silence her, than to sigh. At that moment the sadness in his eyes was so great that she felt herself being torn up inside.
Sliding her hand foreword, she covered his slightly larger one with her own. He turned it over and intertwined fingers with her, and for a long time the two of them simply sat together, gently stroking one another's hands, pensive expressions on their faces.
"You have such pretty hands," he murmured, picking her hand up and studying it, "Slim, but the calluses show your warrior spirit."
She didn't know what to think at this point. Her mind was a swirling vortex of emotion- part of her wanted to let herself melt into his words, forget everything. But she couldn't, not when it was so urgent that they kill that bastard Naraku before it was too late.
"Houshi sama…" she said, the formal name sounding odd after what they'd just experienced, "We should start planning how we're gonna kill Naraku, now, before we run out of time."
He looked up at her slowly, as if being aroused from a deep slumber. He knew the time was running short. "I do not know if even that will save me. But I did promise you I would fight if you fought alongside me. But…can't we just have this one night just to ourselves?"
"This one night, just for us. No Shikon no Kakera, no Shikon no Tama, no Naraku or Kazaana. Just you, and me."
"Sango, listen to me.." the abrupt tone in his voices silenced her.
Taking a deep breath, he began talking. "I know there are a lot of things I do wrong. I'm perverted, and horny, and flirtatious. I know I love all those things, but I would dump them in an instant if you would just give me the chance to protect you for the rest of my life. I do not think I will live much longer."
Her eyes softened; she knew.
" but I'm asking you now to give me the deepest honor,"
She looked at him, eyes questioning.
"I want you to become my wife tonight and bear my child."
She simply stared at him, mouth dropping open slightly. "what..?"
"You mean you want me, I mean us, you, you want to…"
"Night's only good for one thing!" He added teasingly, but his smile faded with her silence. A million thoughts must have been running themselves around in her head, but she tortured him with a stoic, expressionless mask. It seemed to be an eternity that he stared at her mouth, waiting for it to move.
Marry him? Become his? The second the proposition hit her, it seemed that something inside her shifted, exploded with happiness. The reaction dismayed her and she instantly tried to push it away. But there was no fighting it. It was so strong that there was no point in denying how much she wanted him at her side.
It was so abrupt that she had barely been expecting it. She remembered the last time she'd been proposed to…he'd seized her hands in his and in a blunt fashion of words, asked for her hand. She hadn't known what to say then; she didn't love him, and already her feelings for Miroku were becoming stronger each day.
That night, she wondered if he would ever ask her the same question, and here he was, anxiously awaiting an answer, but the circumstances were so completely different from what she'd imaged. His eyes seemed beseeching, and she was sure that if he knew about the eager expression on his face, he would be disgusted with himself, but for the moment, she looked at his face and at that moment she couldn't keep the words inside her any more.
They had failed; it felt like a part inside of her had died. They'd wasted the time they had left. If only she had not angered him. If only he had not flirted with that other girl. If only she had not run away…the list went on and on.
The more she thought about their past, the more of a desire she had to vomit. They'd had such a beautiful shot at happiness, but they'd made all the wrong choices at all the wrong times. The sand had run out of the hourglass and now she could count the grains in her hands. But all she could do was hold fast to them and make use of the small amount of time they had left. It was time to follow her heart instead of her head for once.
Finally her eyes met his. "I'll be yours," she said softly, "make me yours tonight."
Even now, in the dark of the night, Sango felt that familiar warm liquid caressing down her cheeks. She looked at her baby boy, and he stared up at her, an expression of absolute wonderment on her face. When she looked at him, she saw that moment all those months ago when she'd bound herself to Miroku.
They had defeated Naraku three months ago; three months the boy had two striking, clear-skinned palms. She'd pleaded and begged to just let herself die with him, but they had held her back, telling her there was the child to consider, to carry on Miroku's legacy.
Sometimes there were days that she felt herself almost able to be happy again, but those days slipped away as silently as her time with Miroku had. She knew she would never feel true happiness again.
Yet, when she looked at her child, their child, she saw Miroku's eyes. For the faintest of moments, she was able to clutch onto the memories of her dreams before they slowly faded away.
WOW. O_. that was the second most depressing thing I've ever written. (I still think my pokemon story "wounded in my eyes" is far more depressing than this) I have a habit of writing things like this that are so ultimately depressing… I almost was crying as I wrote it! ;_; agh!
*HUGS READERS* I love you!!!!!!! I'm surprised I got so much support with this story that only started out as a mere whim back in may that seemed so unoriginal! Well, I have a way of twisting things extremely. Which could be a good thing or a bad thing ;P But I thank you so much for all the reviews! I love reviews! ^_____^ I may or may not write more fics; it just depends on whether an idea hits me or not.*coughwritersblockcough* (however, I still have one more fic in progress-"Sango's Retaliation" watch for it! ^^ it's the sequal to Miroku's prisoner of war! ) *hugs readers again* I'll still be around, though!
Lots of love,