InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Accursed Hand ❯ Accursed Hand ( One-Shot )

Once upon a time in kingdom of not so peaceful stature a baby was born. The lands celebrated in joy as the king and queen had finally brought a child in the world. The day the squalling child came into the world even the lowliest peasant became drunk with relief.

 

Not all were enjoyed on that fateful day though. In shadows, in the darkest of caves, and the smelliest of sewers, evil lurked. This figure that many were oblivious too felt resentment at its lack of power. It slithered and hissed at any passerby, but was only regarded as a lowly ghost, or worse, the wind. This being knew its power, though it was secluded, at best. And so, in its evil mind, came pride, which this kingdom did not seem to sate.

 

The excited young leaders were oblivious to this potential downfall, and instead of securing their kingdom, they planned a `we finally birthed a brat' part. To this overrated event they invited powers from all over the land. They even, if reluctantly, invited the great TaiYoukais. Of course they took precautions, making sure the room was large in case if any unwanted transformations. Or even minor demons for aggressions to be taken upon. The Taiyoukais were quite sensitive, and emotions could be hurt easily.

 

After many moons and cloudy skies the fateful day arrived, and the part was in full swing. The young leaders had made sure to include the most upbeat of musicians, so as not to let the roar turn into a snore.

 

The time finally came though, and with it, the clock struck twelve—midday, mind you— and all the guests gathered around the ornate carriage and sighed at the not-so-kawaii creature inside. They had to make an impression though. Some of them even cooed.

 

The royal pair watched this with fogged over eyes, for drink had been passed around a few too many times, and smiled goofy smiles. Since the couple had a high opinion of self-importance, they decided to have many godfathers, instead a mere `one'. Who would want one godparent, when one could have so many? They pondered this as they thought, what do godparents do again? These leaders had not been voted for, if you hadn't figured this out already.

 

This was pushed from their minds as the first godparent stepped upon the red clad dais. It was a girl with a sweet face and odd clothing. Behind her stood and angry looking demon. The couple eyed these nervously, but they would never lower themselves to actually speak to them. Why should one associate themselves with godparents?

 

Their state of agitation skyrocketed as the red embroidered figure with twitchy expressions and odd appearance began to growl. It was certainly not appropriate to growl at a party. Soon the girl finished whatever she had blessed their child with, for the couple didn't really care, and the two oddities left. Following that, more figures, unknown to the royal duo, ascended upon the sleeping child, bestowing their pointless frivolities. The king and queen politely hid their yawns.

 

And after such and arduous time the line of godparents dissipated, and the line at the bar grew. The royal figures though they were done, and motioned for the servants to take their child away, but one figute came forward.

 

“Wait, I wish to bestow my blessing as well.” The figure intoned ominously.

 

The couple sighed and rolled their eyes, motioning for the figure to come up. The queen, being quite a vain woman, decided to ignore the shadow, but her eyes glanced over the figure anyway. She gasped as she saw the defiantly better looking than average man stride up to her child. She shot the little baby bed a glare, and began to formulate a plan of `accidentally' bumping into the dark hared stranger in an even darker corner.

 

“What is you name, stranger?” The queen murmured with a seductive smile on her lips.

 

The man smirked up at her, “I am Naraku.” And so he was. He was the shadow in the in the closet, the sewer monster that many believed did not exist. To say it quite clearly, he was on the low end of this brightly-lit country, which was not so very prosperous. He was scum. But he was hot scum, so the queen was quite interested. The king didn't give a damn, and quite obviously ignore his wife, only to growl at her in frustration. The guy was quite handsome, and the king was quite actually interested as well.

 

Naraku, realizing his predicament, decided to make a hurried exit after his most obvious plan. His nose wrinkled slightly as he gazed down upon the child, for it quite clearly needed to be cleaned, but avoided the smell, letting loose a maniacal laugh.

 

“Here now, you stupid humans! It is time for me, the uninvited one, to bestow my blessing! This child's hand will be cursed, and until one finds the way to release it, it will forever remain that way!” Naraku looked down upon the crowd imperiously then turned towards the baby, who was quite obviously laughing at the man. Nobody really cared; nobody had even heard him.

 

And so began the young Prince's tale…

 

 

Now, as you may know, many in many stories—passed down throughout the ages—the soon to be leader always has a defect. Now the young Miroku, as he grew up, got away with many of his misdeeds. While it was true that he was royalty, the people used the excuse of the boy being `young.'

 

Miroku, bless his shriveled little heart, took full advantage of this, until the day of his sixteenth birthday.

 

Being the prince he was, Miroku was always looking for the chance to provide an heir (legitimate or not) and took every chance he got to woo the young ladies of the court (and the kitchens, and the town, and the stable…).

 

As you may now already, no one was too disturbed by the `curse' laid upon the young man. Many even considered it a blessing, because who wouldn't want a prince with a healthy libido. Unfortunately, as you may have guessed, Miroku liked doing something even more disastrous that taking a roll in the hay with said young woman.

 

No, our young prince had a very… unhealthy—healthy to some—fascination with female's rears.

 

Yes, the heir to the not-so-prosperous kingdom had a heinie obsession, a fetish.

 

Of course none dared to make a negative comment on this little hobby of the princes, if any even some in a bad light.

 

This brings us back, though, to the virile (hopefully) young man's sixteenth birthday.

 

For many years there had been problems with raids on the castle from rabid animals (many of them were barely reached six inches in height, with `fangs' that were quite dull… vicious little monsters) who ravaged many of the ladies tulip gardens.

 

The royal couple, finally pressured to solve this pressing problem (taking precedence to the national famine, and raids of the southern countries slowly creeping up their borders) called in an exterminator.

 

Her name was Sango and she stood up for her own.

 

 

And so Miroku, in a fit to fondle every woman—while requesting of her to bare his child, decided to chase the elusive young lady.

 

“Young exterminator,” the King and Queen pleaded, “please rid us of these foul beasts, out beauty is being compromised.”

 

Rolling her eyes behind the unrevealing mask, Sango the Slayer replied, “Of course, your majesties. These monsters shall be tamed, and your tulips shall once again rest in peace.”

 

And so the girl took her leave, completely aware of the lecherous young man trailing her.

 

What Sango was unaware of was the stature of this young man. And so, when his hand creeped out of the shadows on the dripping, stone stairwell, Sango did not hesitate to smack him.

 

Miroku, used to his accursed hand being complied with, stared with startled vigilance at the scowling young woman.

 

“Exterminator? Did you just strike me?”

 

“Of course I did!” Sango fumed, “You-you… lecherous idiot! Who do you think you are?”

 

“The prince.” Miroku smiled slyly.

 

The Young slayer blushed to the tip of her delicate toes (which Miroku wouldn't mind to explore) but held her ground.

 

“Still, Your Majesty, that gives you no right to lay a hand upon my person. Do not replay this travesty, or the fuzzy creatures your parents fear shall not be the only beings slain tonight.”

 

“Ah, my dear beautiful Sango, you are a woman after my heart.” Miroku rubbed the hand shaped mark on his face tenderly.

 

In fit of frustration, Sango stomped off, unsure of what to do… especially about that odd feeling in her chest.

 

 

Time passed. Much to the Court's dismay, Sango's perceived dismay, and Miroku's obvious delight, new little problems kept appearing (along with bruises upon the Young prince's face) which forced the Slayer to stay.

 

As the young royal's affections became more insistent, so did the young girls blushes.

 

Soon, though the marks on the Miroku's face didn't diminish, Sango began to waver. One wall (a large one made of brick with laser beams and killer attack dogs) stood between the to-be couple.

 

And now we come to the climax of this tale.

 

Sango, who was fairly aggressive to most young women, and protective of her property (Miroku) finally confronted the young man about his obsession.

 

“I can not believe you! You fondle her, then come and feel me up? What is wrong with you?”

 

The young woman was furious, her cackling aura reaching out and scorching anything in its path (which was a cause for concern because those drapes were quite flammable and expensive!).

 

Miroku cringed away, trying to appease his lady, “My dear Sango, you know you are the only one for me. You know that.”

 

“But you hand doesn't! I can't trust you. We will never be together.”

 

“But my hand is cursed!” Begged Miroku, “this is beyond my control!”

 

“Then I'm sorry for that.” Sango blinked back tears, crystal drops which threatened to rip the young lovers (though no actual `loving had taken place) apart.

 

“Oh! My Sango!” In a rush of passion Miroku pulled the broken woman into his arms. Feeling a drive for something beyond their understanding (not including Miroku's fetish) they rushed together in merge of grappling limbs and heated glances.

 

And their lips came together.

 

 

Naraku, pleased with himself in his dark pit with meaningless underlings, laughed rausiously in the stench filled hole.

 

“Mwa ha ha ha ha! Feel my wrath you bunch of royal asses!” Though this was unusual for Naraku behavior (though the dastardly music was right on cue, fitting perfectly with his personality) his elation was soon to come to an end.

 

Silent as the grave (and this could be taken literally) Kanna (who somehow stayed white in the mess Naraku called home) slipped into Naraku's perceived room.

 

“What do you wish to show me, Kanna?” Naraku asked, his laughter stuffed down and his ominous face plastered on—which was completely lost on the emotionless girl.

 

With a whisper of cloth and a clink of glass, Kanna held up her mirror. It revealed Naraku's worst fears.

 

The horrible villain snarled at the looking glass, “No! `Tis impossible! Hoe could such a moron gain `Love's-true-kiss? How!?”

 

The spell—the curse plaguing the young prince—was finally broken.

 

 

“Do you, Miroku, take Sango as you bride?”

 

“I do.”

 

“Do you, Sango, take Miroku as you husband?”

 

Sango, in her beautiful wedding dress gleaming like a jewel in the throne room, glared suspiciously at her foolishly smiling fiancé.

 

“I guess…”

 

“Good, you may now kiss the bride.”

 

“Was that how its supposed to go?” Muttered a certain hanyou in the crowd.

 

“Shush,” said his mate, “Whatever makes them happy. She took him right? He really is lucky. Maybe he does have some redeeming qualities.”

 

“Feh! He's a moron, you see, he's gonna mess it up before the honeymoon.”

 

His miko sighed.

 

 

“Well, Prince, maybe you're not so bad.”

“My dear Sango, did you ever truly doubt me?”

 

The bride stared flatly at her husband and snorted.

 

“Well,” he sniffed, “at least were together now.”

 

Sango sighed, “Yes…”

 

As they held each other in the ballroom, slowly circling with a whisper of steps to the soft music, a spell of contentment cloaked them.

 

“I really do love you, Miroku.” Sango whispered.

 

“Hm?”

 

“Miroku?”

 

The Slayer glanced up to catch her husband retracting his hand from the young lady behind him.

 

Catching her look he brought the offending hand up to scratch his head, “Ha ha… oops.”

 

“Prince!”

 

Smack!

 

And so it turned out the young prince had never been cursed, but it was actually his flawed character that brought him his misfortune.

 

Even so, the young couple lived happily ever after.

 

…

 

R.I.P. Miroku, let us see how long you will survive, along with Sango's patience.

 

 

 

 

 

 

A/N: Please rate and review, I would be much obliged. This was just sort of a peace o' fluff a decided to do on a whim—which I started a few months ago, quit, then finished today. It's also be great if you checked out my other InuYasha stories… they're about Sessy... enjoy!