InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Cacophony ❯ Movement V: Adagio ( Chapter 5 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

A/N: paragraph problem was fixed, so I'm re-uploading chapters. ^_^ This'll make the story much easier to read.

Cacophony

-x-

Movement V: Adagio

White. All white. She was walking through a world on the poles of light spectrum, with white trees, white grass, white sky, white houses… and then—in the distance—a shade of… lilac?

Purple. Coming closer, now, like a beam of violet light… only it was shifting, changing, taking the form of a… man? The purple was condensing until it was two almond circles near the top of the purple man-shaped wisp of fog…

“Sango,” the fog-man whispered. “Sango.”

“What do you want?” she whimpered.

“You…I need you… please…”

“No—I…” Cold. She was so cold—

Sango opened her eyes, her breath catching slightly as she jolted out of her dream. Weird…

Then she turned her head and shrieked. Miroku? What the hell is he doing here?!

Miroku winced but didn't change his position. “And good morning to you too.”

“What are you doing in my apartment!” All snuggled up next to me?

“You don't remember?”

“I remember going to bed early because I was exhausted!”

“Nothing else?”

“No. What did you do to me?”

“Oh,” he shrugged, “not much. Took advantage of you a couple of times, took some pictures to send the porn channel…”

She blinked rapidly, her eyebrows lowering warningly.

“Kidding,” he said quickly, tugging her closer so that she now sat in his lap. “A snowstorm hit last night. The first of the season. Your power went out and I came over to keep you warm.”

“Oh…”

“You're really cute when you sleep.”

“It's rather disconcerting to wake up to someone staring at you, actually. You make a habit of watching people sleep?”

He winked. “Just girls who take my breath away.”

“Quoting song lyrics is always a nice fall-back,” she said, giving him a quirky grin. She really wasn't mad. Just surprised. And… pleased. She had this tingly warm feeling spreading inside her that she suspected had nothing to do with the fact that Miroku was still radiating heat like an oven.

He smoothed back a piece of hair that had fallen in her face.

“How come you're always touching my hair?” she asked absently, pushing the strand back farther so it wouldn't be tempted to pull that stunt again.

“Because.” He ran his fingers through it lightly.

She shivered at his touch. “Because why?”

“Just because.” He drew in a breath and carefully stood up. Sango was left feeling bereft without her warmth.

“Want some breakfast?” he asked, walking over to her kitchen area..

“Um…sure.”

“Toast or eggs?”

“Cereal?”

He half-turned. “You need something more substantial than that.”

“I'm not hungry,” she said, only to have her stomach growl half a second later. She flushed under Miroku's wicked grin. “My stomach lies!”

“Despite your stomach's moral issues, you're going to need plenty of energy today.”

“What for? I don't have classes until ten. And recording isn't until five tonight. Speaking of which, what time is it?”

“A little after seven. And you're going to need the energy for our snowball fight in an hour or two.”

She stared at him. “Our what?”

He grinned at her and tucked two pieces of bread into her toaster. “Don't tell me you weren't going to take advantage of all this beautiful snow?”

Still grinning like a little kid an hour later, Miroku ushered Sango up onto the roof of her apartment building. It was completely empty, which surprised Sango a bit; the roof was a favorite place for secret rendezvous and such. Although at seven o'clock in the morning, she supposed such meetings wouldn't be so “secret.”

“You look cute in pink,” she teased Miroku, who only pulled the scarf tighter. “I think you should shop for it more.”

“And I wouldn't have pegged you as a pink person,” he said, inspecting the scarf and gloves that Sango had lent him.

“I'm not,” she shrugged, stooping down to pack some snow into a ball. “But Granny sent me these and I didn't have the heart to give them to Goodwill. Besides, you wear them so well I'm thinking of just donating them to you.”

“So I'm a charity case now, am I?”

“Yes. Anyone who hasn't seen snow before is to be pitied. You've been deprived.”

He shrugged. “California surfer boys don't usually get a chance to see fluffy white stuff.”

“At least now I know why you were so excited to see snow. At first I thought you hadn't developed past adolescence.”

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” She smiled, assuring him that she was joking. Cheesy song lyrics or not, she really did take his breath away. He let his gaze rest on her for a minute, just savoring the picture of Sango smiling. She was finally opening up… and he was going to savor every minute.

“What are you staring at?” Sango called, startling him out of his reverie.

“Nothing. Just—” He cut off with a yelp when he was hit with a cold, hard ball of snow. “Ouch, that hurt!”

“Come on, beach boy, fight back!” she laughed.

A slow grin spread across his face as he scooped some snow into his hands, packing it into a hard ball. He dodged a snowball that Sango flung at him and lobbed the snowball towards her.

Sango jumped out of the way at the last moment. “Hah, you missed!” she yelled, only to be hit in the face with a snowball a second later.

Laughing, Miroku ran over to help her. “Sorry,” he said between chuckles, “did I hurt you?” He helped brush off her face.

She impatiently pushed his hands away, although she was smiling. “Don't try and baby me—you want to win fair and square, right?”

He smiled and retreated a few yards back. “I won't go easy on you,” he warned.

“I think it's I that should be saying that.”

She dodged a snowball aimed toward her chest, but immediately was hit by another. “What—?” Then she noticed that he had a snowball in each hand. “You're ambidextrous!”

Miroku smirked at her.

“Cheater,” she grumbled, taking him off guard and hitting him square on the chest. “You have an advantage.”

Whack. It was her turn to get hit.

“All's fair in love and war.” Smack.

“And this one is classified as which?” Whack.

“I'll leave that for you to decide.” Smack.

“You're just afraid of picking one or the other.” Whack whack. “You and your ambidextrism! I'm going to get you for that!” She started firing a rapid succession of snowballs at him.

Miroku laughed and charged right towards her, getting hit with a few snowballs, but not seeming to care. “That's not a word.”

“But it sounded good.” At that moment she realized that he planned to tackled her—so she spun on her heel, kicking up snow in the process, and ran.

Only problem was… the roof wasn't that big in diameter. And Miroku was gaining ground fast.

Praying that her tactic would work, she stopped short and made a 180 degree turn before charging in the other direction.

Miroku reached out and wrapped his arm around her waist, which was a good plan to begin with, but the inertia did its duty and for the second time in two days, Sango found herself on top of him.

The cellist grinned up at her. “You really like the top, don't you? Come on, Sango, go for a little variety here.”

“You and your perverse jokes!” She rolled off of him and kicked snow towards his face. “You play dirty.”

“You got me.” He grinned wickedly and leaned forward, catching her face between his hands. His thumbs made small circles on her skin as he regarded her intently.

Sango was having trouble breathing. That look in his eyes was beginning to scare her…

She wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, staring helplessly into each others' eyes just like in a mushy romance film. Only… it wasn't sappy, just inquisitive. Curious. The eyes are windows to the soul. She was being drawn into the dark, dark blue hues of his eyes, and she actually felt like she understood with his gaze hooked with hers—

A soft cough startled her out of her daze and the spell was broken. Their heads swiveled to stare at the woman who was standing not five feet away from them in a long black coat. She was scuffing her black leather boots into the snow, causing little tuffs of white powder to flutter in the air. “I hope I'm not interrupting anything—”

Sango practically shoved Miroku off of her. “No, no, nothing at all!”

Miroku shot her a look, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Hello, Shima,” he said, rising to his feet. “How are you doing?”

The woman smiled at him, holding out her hand. “Fine, thank you. And you, darling? How did the recording go today?”

“Well. We nearly got half the soundtrack done… didn't we, Sango?”

“Eh?” Sango was still sitting on the ground, staring up at the two people in front of her. “Oh, yes, we did.” She hurriedly got to her feet, brushing off the snow from her backside.

“Sango plays cello too,” Miroku explained to Shima. “She's assistant principal and very talented. I'm surprised she didn't beat me out for principal chair.”

Sango snorted. “It's not nice to tell lies, Miroku, no matter how honorable they may be.” She folded her arms over her chest, suddenly feeling the harsh chill of the wind, now that Miroku wasn't there to shield her. “I better leave now. I have some reading to catch up on, and chores to do. See you tomorrow, Miroku…nice meeting you, Shima.”

The woman waggled her fingers in Sango's direction; Miroku smiled, his dimples catching her off guard once again. “Till next time,” he said.

Sango quickly turned and hurried toward the exit, not looking forward to running down three flights of stairs—but hey, at least it would keep her warm.

She wasn't quite sure what prompted her to turn around when she reached the doorway; but she was utterly certain that the sight of Miroku and Shima locked in a passionate embrace made her fly down the stairs with much more fervor necessary.

“Idiot!” she whispered furiously as she pounded down the cold metal steps, her rapid descendent making an odd clanging metallic rhythm. “That moron! What did he think he was doing, leading me on like that? I could practically feel his desire to kiss me… but it wasn't me he wanted to kiss! He just wanted to kiss! Ignorant lech, see if I ever talk to him again—”

Her tirade was abruptly cut off when another person entered the stairwell, coming in on the fourth floor, one level above where she had to get off. She hoped he hadn't overheard part of her rant—the last thing she needed was people believing she was psychotic—but he marched right past her without even looking her way, his rather large lips pulled taut in a grimace.

Sango slowed her pace a bit, waiting to see if he'd get off on the fifth floor. He didn't.

Why did she have this nagging feeling that he was heading towards the roof…on a mission?

Inuyasha looked up from his book to see Miroku stagger into the apartment, a haggard look on his face. “What happened to you?”

“Shima's boyfriend found us on the roof.”

“The one that looks like a fish?”

“Yeah.”

“Ouch. What happened?”

“He threatened me. Shima cried. I'm forbidden to see her ever again.”

“Oh, is that all?” Inuyasha returned to his book.

“But this time I'm actually going to heed his warning.”

Inuyasha's head jerked up. “What!”

Miroku sank wearily into an armchair, propping up his feet on the coffee table. “It was too much of a hassle. And I didn't really like Shima anyway.”

“So you two broke up?”

“We weren't officially going out.”

Inuyasha shrugged. “Whatever.”

“Good book?”

“It's for Philosophy.”

“Oh. Never mind then.”

Inuyasha studied him carefully. “What's that look on your face for?”

“Hmmm?” Miroku was staring out the window. “Oh, nothing…just wondering what it would be like to date a girl who actually knew me…”

“Sounds like a plus,” said Inuyasha dryly.

“Yeah…”

“Got anyone in particular in mind?”

“What…? Oh…no…”

“Mmm, so that's how it is. All right.” Inuyasha threw the book on the ground, fed up with trying to decipher the author's hidden meanings. “You up for an intense game of foosball?”

“Sounds good to me.”

Sango spent the rest of the day reading for her classes, practically, cleaning (yes, cleaning!), and… thinking about Miroku. She could not get the man off her mind, dammit, no matter how hard she forcefully tried to block his image from her mind.

You're not allowed to think about him. You don't care, remember? And he has a girlfriend. He was just flirting with you…he didn't really mean anything…

She flopped onto her couch and flicked on the television, the idea of mind-numbing stupidity sounding better and better.

The next morning she awoke to Kagome yelling in her ear. “Sango! Get up! Didn't you hear your alarm clock? It's been going off for nearly an hour now!”

“What…?” Sango cracked open an eye and buried her face back in the pillow. “Whattimeizzit?”

“It's almost eight! I was just about to leave for the studio!”

“Aw…” A string of curses were muffled by her pillow. She languidly rolled out of bed and padded towards the bathroom, grabbing a pair of jeans and a sweater on the way. “Go without me, I'll be there… in—” a wide yawn cut off her words—“a second.”

Kagome stared at her incredulously. “You look awful. What time did you go to bed last night?”

“Around eleven… fell asleep around two…woke up at four, had some tea, went back to sleep…” The bathroom door shut resolutely and Kagome was left standing in Sango's bedroom. Should I wait or go on without her?

“And don't you even think about waiting for me,” shouted Sango from inside the bathroom. “Loverboy's probably waiting on his motorcycle for you. And I need the sprinting exercise.”

“All right, but hurry! I can tell you right now Takahashi's not going to stand for tardiness.”

“Get outta here already.”

Kagome grinned and walked out of her apartment, fairly sure that she heard Inuyasha honking from down on the street.

Her hair still wet from her five-minute shower, Sango once again found herself sprinting down the sidewalk in a desperate attempt to reach the studio early. She had fifteen minutes. And counting.

She really had to get rid of this waking-up-late habit. People didn't take kindly to being knocked aside by a giant “guitar case.” Well, screw them. Guitar case indeed. Yes, it's a mutant. Something went very wrong in the Guitar Factory. She willed her mental sarcasm to stab any deserving recipients with its lethality.

As she neared the studio, she was getting the oddest feeling of déjà vu—the heavy, overcast sky, running for the door with only five minutes to spare… but this time, there was no Miroku on the stoop with his cell phone.

Thank god.

She yanked open the door and purposefully strove inside…

…only to crash smack-dab into Miroku.

Her eyes widened as the weight of her cello propelled her backwards. “God da—” was all she could manage before Miroku skillfully caught her around the waist, saving her from the inevitably painful fall and potential damage to Kirara.

“You okay?” he grinned.

“Fine,” she said shortly, but the look of hurt that flashed across his face forced her to amend her words. Be nice. You have no reason to be mad at him. “I mean, thank you. It's been one of those mornings. I hate being late.”

His friendly grin reappeared. “So I noticed. You're like an angry kitten that'll bear her claws at anyone that irritates her.”

You have no idea. She disentangled herself from his arms and strode into the recording studio with nothing more than a tight smile sent his way.

He caught up with her, sliding an arm around her waist. “You sure you're okay?”

She pulled out of his half-embrace. “Yes.”

“Woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?”

“Something like that.”

“How `'bout some hot chocolate during break? You need a pick-me-up.”

“I brought homework along.”

They'd reached the door of Studio #1. Miroku opened the door for her with a slight frown on his face.

“Thank you,” said Sango before brushing past him.

“My pleasure,” he muttered.

Miroku absolutely hated music by rote. He hated when artists just went through the motions of playing notes and rhythms—without emotion, the music didn't mean anything. It was like an unsolvable algebraic equation…the feeling just nagged at you.

But that was exactly what he was doing. Playing by rote. He wasn't focused at all…which was bad, because this was the second-to-last session of the soundtrack. They'd already completed an hour of the movie's music and Takahashi planned to finish recording the second hour today. Not tomorrow, but the next day, would consist entirely of brush-ups.

It worried him that he was less concerned about his inability to focus than he was worried that Sango was avoiding him.

And she was. Not in so many words, but she was shifted so that she faced away from him, and they hadn't made eye contact in the past hour of playing.

He wasn't a mind reader, but he could definitely take a hint. She was avoiding at him. And he couldn't figure out why.

It was showing in his music. Focus… focus…

Takahashi randomly cut them off in the middle of a measure in the middle of a movement. He leveled the entire orchestra with a death glare that could have frozen fire. “I don't know what's going on today,” he said, “but nobody has their mind on this music. Even Golden Boy's solos sound like a high school student's interpretation.” His eyes flicked over towards where Miroku sat.

Miroku was more offended by the term “Golden Boy” than he was about being compared to a high-school level musician.

“Maybe it's the weather, or mono, or the fact that it's the middle of the week,” continued Takahashi, “but I am going to give you a half-hour coffee break—yes, right now—and when you come back in exactly thirty minutes, you'd damn well better be ready to play like the professionals you are!”

Chastised, the orchestra muttered its consent. Without another word, Takahashi walked out of the studio.

With his peripheral vision, Miroku saw Sango quickly rise from her chair, not even bothering to put her cello away. Frustrated, he hurriedly put Kazaana back in its case and leaped to his feet, walking as fast as he could to catch up with Sango. He couldn't explain this…feeling of his, but he felt that if he didn't go after her, he might lose her forever.

This thought scared him more than it should have.

She made it to the front stoop of the studio before she heard his voice.

“Hey.”

Her back stiffened. “Hey, Miroku.” She took a cursory glance backwards (lord, he looked good today) before resuming her original pace. Hopefully he'd take the hint and not follow her.

But no, with a few extra-long strides he caught up with her. She kept her head down and tucked her hands into her pockets.

They walked in silence a few minutes or so, Miroku carefully maneuvering around other harried pedestrians so that he was always just next to Sango. Finally, she burst out, “Is there something you want?”

“To talk to you.” The bitter cold wind was ruffling his hair and his blue eyes seemed more purple than usual.

“So talk.”

“Will you listen?”

“I suppose,” she grumbled.

“Are you going to respond, or is this a `pretend to be a doorpost' day?”

“Personally, I think doorposts are underrated—” she caught his look and realized this—whatever serious issue he wanted to discuss—wasn't a joking matter. “I'll respond.”

“Good. What have I done to upset you?”

“Pardon?” She blinked, not expecting that.

“I've offended you somehow. What did I do?”

“Don't worry about it.”

He reached out and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. “But I am worried.”

“You shouldn't be, since you have a girlfriend. And speaking of which—” She removed his arm from her waist—“you shouldn't be hugging other women if you're already taken.”

“She's not my girlfriend.”

“Oh, well that makes me feel even better!” she said. “Considering I saw the two of you sucking face on the roof yesterday.”

“You saw that?” He covered a smile. “So you're jealous, is that it?”

Wrong thing to say. “You wish!” she snorted, her eyes flashing. “I saw another man stalking up the stairs—he was so intent that he didn't even see me. I'm willing to bet that girl you were exchanging saliva with was his girlfriend, wasn't it?”

Oh, how he wished he could deny such an accusation.

“I knew it,” she said, her voice laced with disappointment.

“Sango—”

“Don't. You've already fulfilled my expectations of you. My first impression of you was a lecherous playboy, albeit chivalrous and kind.”

Well, that just made things all better, didn't it? But what could he do to refute such a statement?

“I'll just have to change your opinion of me then,” he said brightly.

She blew out a puff of air. “I don't think that's necessary; we won't be seeing each other after Friday.”

His stomach lurched, but he didn't let his reaction show. “Then I must redeem myself sometime in the next two days.”

“Miroku…” She gave him a searching glance. “If people's opinions are so important to you, why do you give them reason to form negative ones?”

He opened his mouth but no words came out. He'd… honestly never thought of it that way. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and watched his boots as he took one step after another.

One step after another… that's how he felt while dealing with Sango. Other girls he could sweet-talk into believing anything he wanted them to, or use more… persuasive methods. What was it about this magenta-eyed musician that made him tread so carefully?

She was wrong; he didn't care what kind of opinions other people formed about him, he cared about what kind of opinion she formed about him. He didn't try to reason out why—his mind hurt enough already.

“We should turn back now,” she said, breaking his moment of pensiveness, “if we don't want to be late.”

“Right…”

Silence prevailed once again.

“Sango.”

She looked up at him.

“Will you allow me to take you to dinner tonight? As somewhat of a goodbye present? I have a gig on Friday, so after the recording session, we won't see each other again, as you said.”

She wet her lips with her tongue. “Miroku…”

“I promise I won't try anything.”

“But—”

“Just a friends' date. To redeem myself. And you deserve an evening of fun and relaxation.”

“Oh…fine…” But the smile that graced her lips belied her reluctant tone.

Hope renewed, he boldly took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together. He held his breath, waiting for her to pull away or snap at him… but she merely smiled again, and walked a little closer to him.

The warmth from their hands sustained him all the way to the studio entrance.

A/N: Two updates in two days! Man, I'm on a roll… everyone drop me a review and tell me what you think of this, because I lost precious sleep time to bring you this next installment of Cacophony. (; And the romance develops…slowly. Probably about three or four more chapters to go… not too sure at this point. Till next time! Review!