AN: Written for ninalee-chan. You're so patient about my MirSan updates that I feel ashamed sometimes. -sheepish grin- I hope you and fellow MirSan shippers enjoy. It's only the second time that my fics focus solely on them. XD Forgive the grammatical errors or repeats. "Ecchi", I believe, is the performance of sexual actions...
AN: Written for ninalee-chan. You're so patient about my MirSan updates that I feel ashamed sometimes. -sheepish grin-
I hope you and fellow MirSan shippers enjoy. It's only the second time that my fics focus solely on them. XD
Forgive the grammatical errors or repeats. "Ecchi", I believe, is the performance of sexual actions...
Summary: "Do you think I'm fat?" Fluffy MS
Questions, questions, questions…
Always questions; never any answers.
The slayer didn't like it all—always groping for answers in a dark world clouded by wrong and insecurities. Those insecurities disturbed her, mocking without reason and without mercy. Confounding, and perturbing—so much so she hadn't received a decent night's rest since the death of her family…her comrades…her home.
Sango lowered her eyes from the treetops, watching the golden pools dance along flittering dead leaves. The forest was so green; yet the fresh and alive still fell one by one.
Sighing softly, she turned around and started for the village she and the others decided to take residence for the night before. Thanks to that leach of a monk of course.
He was another mystery; she could tell that he was going to be a puzzle since the beginning.
The holy monk with an odd personality—flirtatious, but cunning; wise yet immature and playful—so many aspects revolved around that single person that it made her dizzy just wondering how; a man who was cursed for the irresistible scent of women and the wind intact with his palm; the monk who stole her broken heart and mended it to a stronger, more loving version of its past self.
She owed him so much…
Sango despised debts however. Being the person she was, the taijiya had been taught to be self-reliant, never open up and reveal your weaknesses.
Her love for him was one of those.
Throughout all the things he does she grew to have affection for him, began to seek him for advice when she felt alone, and without her knowledge her heart started to jump erratically when his eyes met hers, skipped a beat when his hand touched hers in the simplest of ways.
To foreign eyes, it'd merely appear like the deepest of desire.
But for her, and if Kirara could talk she'd explain, that it wasn't like that at all. She hated relying on other people—especially those who could just leave without a word, without a goodbye. Houshi-sama was part of that category. She gave her heart to someone unattached to this world, a man that's already seen heaven and hell, reached spiritual enlightenment through an evil bind.
It was pathetic.
It was sickening.
It was downright weak.
Furrowing her eyebrows, the woman resisted the urge to bash her head in frustration. Instead, she flopped down in her fit, folding her arms tightly round her chest and leaned against one of the trees. Tapping a foot in a medium tempo, it increased with every second she sat. A rock was glimpsed from the corner of her eye, picked it up without really looking at it, and tossed it into the babbling brook a meter away.
Giving a quick heavy sigh, she rose and walked towards the edge of the bank, her eyes scanning the water for the stone. It was of a blue tint, painted with even paler shades. Sango had never kept things just because they were pretty or interesting. It didn't even reach sentimental value for her besides the Hiraikotsu and her outfit.
This rock was actually lovely. There was not much reflecting of light, but the colours made up for it. It looked almost like—
Damn it. She thought to herself; she didn't throw it back into the stream however. She decided it was time to head back to the inn when something else caught her attention. It was ridiculous how she began to scrutinize the simple form when she's seen it so many times before, frowned repeatedly at the scars and bruises. It looked odd at the moment. She lifted her left arm and poked the top then did it with the right. Sango then rested one of her hands on the swell of her hip, while the other outlined her eyes in baleful curiosity.
Pursing her lips a bit, the slayer remarked her reflection as she stepped away, head tilted back as she pondered. The woman blinked; she didn't even notice that she was messing with her eyelashes, trying to curl them up with the tips of her forefingers.
The walk back wasn't as long and soon she was not far from the door to the inn.
"Sango-chan!" the young miko cried delightedly. "Come on, lunch is over here."
Taking her place beside the girl, the taijiya didn't bother reprimanding herself as she studied Kagome's features with a semblance of envy and awe. Her dark eyes were soft and warm, smile is inviting, healthy olive-toned skin and her voice was bubbly, happy. And with a petite body like that, it wasn't really surprising that she caught the eye of many of the opposite sex.
For some reason, it drifted further—comparing Kikyou with Kagome and even Kagura flashed in her mind once or twice. She only saw them either during the heat of battle, or when something involves Naraku escaping them again.
But there was no doubt those two were women of androgynous feminine appeal. Though Kikyou's face was regal and cold, she was indeed a sight; her hair was so long and cascaded like liquid obsidian, clashing against the alabaster skin. Kagura's fierce crimson eyes captured you, even if she was Naraku's incarnation and a yokai, her features held no flaws, brown tresses that unnaturally curled and waved, like she was born from the wind. They were both confident tempests, their voices smooth, low, indifferent—Kikyou's smoky, Kagura's seductive. And probably also that beneath their heavy robes, figures are hidden.
Sango's eye twitched once, feeling a bit disgusted that she was thinking about other women like that. If the others weren't sitting beside her, her eyes would've widened in horror. She was thinking in the same manner as that perverted monk! Now she really felt like banging her head on the table.
"You alright, Sango?" came the hanyou's gruff voice. "Ya look like you're gonna bang you're head on the table or somethin',"
"I'm fine," she responded, fighting back the groan while the silly notion of Inuyasha being a mind reader came into her bending thoughts.
Her ideas were really getting on her nerves.
"Is anything wrong, Sango-chan?" Kagome inquired concern evident on her face.
Shaking her head, the slayer patted her friend's shoulder. "No, I'm all right, really."
"Are you sure?"
Nodding, it was left at that. The meal didn't take long to finish completely, and soon Shippou and Kagome were dragging the angry Inuyasha off to the market to supply their contents again. Kirara had awakened from her nap by then and with a snuggle against the taijiya's calf, ran off with the rest of their group.
Sango was slightly upset that the youkai nekomata left, but shrugged it off. It wasn't like Kirara didn't want to do certain things for herself every now and then.
But maybe she should make the excuse of going with them. The monk was still here, and it made her nervous.
He always bothered her so she figured might as well.
When the exterminator turned to face him, her hand balled into a fist. He was already flirting with some maids. Sango stood to her full height, picked up her boomerang and left the inn. She really didn't feel like hitting him at the moment. A walk might clear her head; or just make her think more.
She'll risk it…
"Sango, wait a moment!"
The woman ignored him, not meeting his gaze as he halted by her side, a smile in place.
"Where are you heading off to?" he asked politely.
"Wherever my feet take me." she replied with a sniff.
The young man kept the smile plastered in place, his pace keeping up with her easily. He didn't say much else, simply remained by her side as she ventured back into the foliage. It was more unnerving that he wasn't speaking. Normally, he was so chatty when in a good mood. This made a grimace spread on her face. He couldn't have had fun with the women so fast, but with him who knew.
"Why are you glaring at me?" Miroku questioned, his azure orbs shining with perplexity.
Sango intensified the look, narrowing her eyes to slits. "You know why,"
Miroku quirked a brow, but his eyes softened—the sky melting from sudden warmth. "Sango, you know they mean nothing,"
"Oh, they don't?" she replied sternly, staring straight ahead.
"They don't," he told her again, trying to meet her gaze. It became clear that she had no intention of doing so, and relented for a minute.
Sango did stay quiet, but just to control the emotions that could trigger the blood rush. To fight it off further, she scoffed.
The monk suddenly reached out to clasp her hand; she evaded by jumping a few steps ahead before whirling about to face him. Though nonchalant outside, inwardly she was angry and nervous. He could be lying; she cared for him, but oft times Miroku could be a really sneaky. She enquired about his true self, made assumptions about possible fallacies. Sango just wasn't in the mood—she needed a direct answer. The anxiety flittered away for a moment, enough to get her to speak.
"Houshi-sama?" making sure she seemed shy.
His attention was immediate. "Yes, Sango?"
Then, with the most innocent, curious façade she could conjure, asked, "Do you think I'm fat?"
The young man's expression faltered to a mixture of astonishment and disbelief. The look was priceless, and she had difficulty maintaining the twitches of her mouth.
"What?" Miroku inquired carefully, clearly not comprehending anything.
She got him. "I don't know," she began. "It seems as though some areas have gotten rather flabby. My hips have become bigger—and not in a good way." The demon slayer rambled for another minute or two, picking assets about herself that popped into her head or she honestly didn't like.
"Sango," Miroku interjected once she was done. "What's this about?"
Her response was casual. "Nothing, I just wanted an opinion."
The monk couldn't believe that she was actually talking about such things. Sango caught this easily. Probably from the fact that she was confiding in him. Due to this, the reply was cautious. "Whatever for?"
"Well, what do you think?" Sango asked again, ignoring his inquiry. She was trying to cover up her surprise to what he said. A pervert such as he wasn't suppose to be so wary.
Miroku was giving her a smile now, his eyes glimmering with amusement. "I think you're crazy,"
This honestly stumped her more; has he caught onto her intentions or was the houshi being sincere. Or he was actually thinking hentai thoughts, performing ecchi in his mind's eye. That seemed to match better. "How exactly am I crazy?" casting aside the warnings, intrigued by the remark.
Keeping the gentle smirk in place, his reply was, "For one thing, your eyes are not 'squinty',"
"Yes they are." Sango answered indignantly. It was one of the traits she really thought weren't appealing.
"You're wrong, my dear," he continued. "They're lovely to look at, the colour a gorgeous brown, secretly glinting specks of green when the sun hits them right."
A blush was coming forth; whether from the endearing tone or compliment was uncertain. She managed to pull off a snort.
"More explaining, huh?" Miroku returned good-naturedly. "Very well. You're hands now, are not large and unflattering. They're petite, dainty looking, but firm." He added when she sent him a petulant scowl.
At her exasperated groan, the houshi let the smile become more genuine, taking measured, slow steps towards the girl. "You doubt?"
"Who knows with you?" Sango didn't try to convey her feelings about the trust in him, pivoting her body away from his direction.
"You asked for my thoughts; I'm telling you what I believe."
"Then listen," Miroku commanded quietly, now a foot from her. "There's nothing wrong with you."
"Your arms are not 'abnormally long' or 'flabby'," he told her, a finger trailing upwards and causing a shudder. "They're the right length.
"Your nose isn't too sharp at the end, it curves where it should; and your hips aren't too wide." Proving his point, one hand wrapped itself round her waist while the other cupped the side of her jaw, his nose now scathing the tip of her own.
Sango's breath in her throat hitched, drowning in the violet blue oculars focusing directly above. Miroku's voice was almost husky from its decrease in pitch, those roving hands now tenderly sliding along the small of her back and arms. The air from his mouth was warm, tickling the inside of her ear whilst he whispered all the good things of what he saw in her—traits she acknowledged and ones she never even heard before. Some that made her chuckle with irony, others that made tears brim.
"Understand it, accept it," Miroku stated, stroking his digits through that silky hair he softly reprimanded her for insulting a minute before. "You're wonderful."
"Houshi-sama…" the slayer finally let out, oxygen depleted, head tizzy and intoxicated by the proximity of his body so near to hers. He was too close, and she liked it, appreciated the fact he was pulling her into his chest; made sure her hand fisted his robes—scared for some irrational reason that he would disappear.
His lips traced a line from her eyelids to her chin. Sango fought not to plead, attempted to remain strong. Fortunately, his mouth captured hers in a feathery light kiss, yet it caused such a reaction within her that Sango even leaned in to make it linger, heighten the pressure and what it was doing to her.
The monk pulled away on what seemed to be too short. Miroku had his lips curve into a sensuous smile—the one she disliked when used on others, adored when he was handing it to her like now.
"Remember, all right. You're not ugly, you're not fat." the houshi placed another kiss on her mouth, murmured his words against her skin. "You're perfect."
All the exterminator could do was nod.
"Good." he said, a grin replacing where another side had been. "Let's head back."
Sango felt something skim her thighs and bottom, rubbing it lasciviously. A sidelong glance was sent his way, and Miroku stepped back, hands raised in surrender. The exterminator kept her face seriously composed as she took hold of one shoulder and made him start the walk back. A smirk placed itself on her face, when he stiffened, those azure orbs clearly indicating a speech impediment.
A giggle rose and spurted out. Sango was glad that they had that conversation. He was definitely more than what he seemed. And she was happy to know, that deep inside, she was more to him than just a way of bearing children, more than a comrade, more than a simple friend.
The taijiya learned about herself today. Realised aspects he had to share, what he kept unexposed.
Also that she could prove that how much she can go to silence his antics. She could mimic him; might do it more often too now that she's confirmed his bottom felt nice.