InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Entrapment ❯ His Weakness, Her Advantage ( Chapter 6 )

Entrapment

By: Xeero

Chapter Six:

His Weakness, Her Advantage

~*~

A lot of people have been asking me where I got the inspiration for Entrapment. Well actually, I thought about the whole Inu-Kik relationship. And it seemed to me like he was trapped because she was using his emotions to her advantage and she made him like a loyal puppy, pitifully trailing after her wherever she went. So I literally made Inuyasha a slave because I wanted to see how this whole situation would turn out.

***

"Sango…" he whispered in a singsong voice. "Sango my love!" The girl moaned in her sleep and rolled over, mouth open wide as she snored softly. Miroku began to steadily jab her arm, humming to himself, waiting patiently for her to get up.

"Whatsuamatter?" Sango slurred, as if she had chugged too much sake the night before. She opened her bleary eyes and shuddered in disgust when she found out that it was Miroku waking her up, not his cute friend, Hojo. Hojo was the extremely gullible, yet extremely cute and sweet priest that made Miroku pale in comparison. He wasn't prone to bouts of pervertedness and she could always rest assured that Hojo wouldn't cop a feel when she wasn't paying close attention.

After she had been torn away from her best friend Kagome, Sango had a hard time settling down with Miroku. He was extremely jovial and friendly, not to mention sharp-witted and cute, but he was a pervert! The first time Sango had slapped him she had been appalled, expecting a beating or worse, but Miroku had merely rubbed his sore jaw and told her that it was okay and to do what she felt fit in situations such as these. In other words he had given her permission to slap him when he groped her. Which was all fine and good, but Sango wished that he didn't grope her at all! She wished he would be more like his good friend Hojo.

Sango rose and stretched out her tired, aching limbs. When she stopped doing her stretches, her gaze locked with Miroku's. He was staring at her somewhat hungrily, a faint smirk on his lips, and was that lust shining in his eyes? Sango shivered, rubbing the goosebumps on her arms.

"Stop staring at me like that, you stupid pervert!" Sango relished the freedom Miroku gave her. Most masters would have beaten her black and blue if she had said half of the insults she had pelted Miroku with.

"But Sango!" He whined in an almost puppy-like way. Damn! He must be getting those tips from Hojo! Only Hojo has mastered the puppy eyes! "I was just admiring you!"

"Shut up," she ground out. "I'm tired. It's still dawn!" She pointed to the window. The sky was still washed dark blue, with a hint of bright stars. Only a few streaks of pink and gold managed to struggle their way through the dark backdrop.

"We're on the move, my dear Sango," Miroku said cheerfully. Sango rubbed her eyes and groaned.

"Why so early?" she whimpered.

"The monks of this temple have to go out in a group. Youkai have been viciously terrorizing local villages. We think we might be able to help."

"Do I have to come?" Miroku placed a feather-light touch on her hand. Warmth jolted from the spot all the way up her arm. And then it was gone before she could even drown in the comfortable feeling. Sango blinked stupidly up at her master, rubbing her eyes again. Her mind was a bleary haze, foggy, with bits of swirling mist, making it hard to focus.

What's wrong with me? Sango unconsciously rubbed her arm, trying to shake out the tingly feeling.

"It would mean the world to me," he said. "I'm begging you!" He fixed Sango with a pleading stare and large, moist blue eyes. His nimble fingers brushed her arm again, causing her to shudder. The reaction was foreign to her. She never got giddy when some stupid boy touched her. He was only a year - at most - older than her.

What was so wonderful about Miroku touching her arm? Was it the fact that he wasn't being perverted? Was it because she liked him? The questions danced around in her head, leaping and prancing, the answers teasing her, only barely brushing her fingertips, just out of her reach.

Sango looked at Miroku with a hard stare.

"Besides we could really use you in battle, if the need should crop up. I saw Master Hiko take your huge weapon out of storage. Hiraikotsu is it? Pretty impressive. You seem like you would be excellent in battle." Miroku smiled as he picked up the faint dusting of pink on Sango's cheeks. It wasn't often that he could make her flustered. And he would bask in the moment until the very end.

"I was a Demon Slayer before I was captured. But I could use a brief brushing up." Miroku perked up.

"I'd be glad to help you Sango! Gather your weapons and meet me in half an hour. We'll postpone our trip!" Then he walked excitedly from her room, but not without throwing a wink over his shoulder.

Sango huffed as the curtain of tied bamboo stalks fell, only stirred at the faint draft creeping from in between a crack in the old, fragile window. She buried her face in her arms and blew out an exhausted sigh. Why was she affected by Miroku's touches all of a sudden? She never had been before. It had to be because of his tenderness and lack of perverted ness. That had to be the reason. It just had to!

Plus Miroku seemed to know that she was flustered because of him. He was probably going to use that to his advantage. Lucky her. She let out a low, raspy laugh. Sango knew Miroku had figured her out when he shot that little irritating wink over his shoulder before her left.

The girl sighed in frustration, slipping off her clothes and casting a fretful look over her shoulder. The stinking pervert was probably spying on her from the shadows. She wouldn't put it past him. Sango slowly slipped on her Slayer's outfit, completely black with startling pink armor. She wrapped a pink sash around her waist and slipped her sword and sheath inside. After finding a strip of cloth, Sango tied her hair into a high ponytail, praying that the wind wouldn't blow her hair in her face. She grabbed Hiraikotsu that was perched comfortably in the corner and walked out of the room.

Miroku was waiting for her in the dojo, which was where people of the Buddhist temple and welcomed strangers practiced. It was outside and the ground was made of hard, compact dirt. It was completely flat, with no slopes or lumps, perfectly smooth and it seemed to go on forever.

Miroku's hair, which was earlier mussed from sleep, was now neatly combed, his usual messy bangs hanging over his face, and the tiny ponytail tied perfectly at the base of his neck. He was now sporting the usual golden staff, complete with a wide circle with many intricate designs, patterns, and charms.

He smiled broadly when Sango approached him. She noted with disgust that he had taken an instant liking to her tight, form-fitting outfit. Figures. Stupid pervert. She now had the strong urge to beat the crap out of him.

"Are you ready Sango?" Miroku asked. "Because if you're not, then that's okay."

"Of course I'm ready!"

"Are you sure? Not many have survived my fierce attacks in battle." Was he showing off? Sango resisted the desire to smack him upside the head and wondered why he was being arrogant. Miroku was many things, but arrogant wasn't one of them. Sango sighed in resignation. All of this morning's thoughts had her brain confused.

"Not many have survived mine," she quipped. "You will be one of them."

"Ready?"

"Bring in on."

Miroku was swifter than she expected. In a second, he had managed to fly across the dojo and bring his staff slamming down towards her. Gaping, Sango could only dumbly shield herself with Hiraikotsu. She was sent sliding a few feet backwards, but she didn't loose her footing. With the clouds of bronze dust finally settled, she saw Miroku perched on the ground, hands spread out before him, a little smile on his lips.

"Hm. Interesting. You survived."

"Told you. It'll take more than a few flashy tricks to take me down." Her confident words masked her amazement. Miroku did not seem like the fast type. Oh well. She would just have to watch out from now on.

"I can see that." He stood up and brushed the dust from his deep purple robes.

"My turn." Sango's arm tensed and a look of extreme concentration came over her face. Hiraikotsu was easily lifted and it hovered level with the ground for a few long moments before she yelled, "GO!" and sent it flying towards Miroku.

His mouth fell open in shock and he narrowly avoided with assault. Hiraikotsu was pushing against him, causing him to slide back in the dirt. Miroku screwed up some of his strength and shoved the weapon away from him with his staff. It landed a few feet away in the dirt. He wiped the sweat from his brow, but he barely had time to catch his breath because Sango went racing towards him, tugging her sword from her sheathe, leaping towards the fallen monk.

Miroku grunted, shielding himself with his staff as she cruelly brought the weapon down on him. He shoved her back a little bit and advanced her, showing off with a few twirls of his staff before swiping it quickly under her feet, causing her to fall on her bottom. The girl blushed. She had been so amazed by his skill that she hadn't been paying attention. Curse him!

She readied herself and twisted her body backwards, completing a full back flip, and when she landed, she gathered up Hiraikotsu and smirked at Miroku.

"Your stupid tricks won't work again!" She holstered her sword.

"Your tricks won't work on me either," Miroku informed her. Oh really. Sango was glad to know his one weak point. Woman. She smiled seductively, making sure to add the extra bounce to her step and the wriggle to her hips. She was sure that she could see a faint hint of drool at the corners of his mouth.

Sango slowly made her way over to him, licking her lips slowly. She stopped only a few inches away from him and her warm, steamy breath fanned out over his face. Miroku swallowed and grinned mischievously. His hand began to twitch. Before he could cop a feel, Sango jumped back from him and sent the tip of her giant boomerang slamming into Miroku's staff, knocking it effectively from his grasp.

It took him a few long moments to react and figure out that he had lost.

"Never underestimate women, Miroku. Remember that."

Little did she know how right she was. Especially with the shocking sequence of events soon following their trip to the troubled village.

***

Miroku was especially grumpy after their fight in the dojo, which was uncharacteristic. The jovial, optimistic monk never let things get him down, especially Sango. But that was before she shattered his pride. A mere girl had beaten him - and some of the monks have witnessed his pitiful defeat!

Sango had two bowls of fresh hot stew in her hands and was walking steadily over to him.

"What's got you down?" she asked, sitting next to him on the log. She handed Miroku his stew and some chopsticks. Miroku clamped down on a piece of deer meat floating around in the dark brown broth with his sticks and shoved it in his mouth, taking a long time to chew and swallow.

"Nothing." He began nibbling delicately on a piece of limp celery. Avoiding Sango seemed to be the best option, if he wanted to scrounge the last remnants of his pride off of the floor, but he couldn't resist her. Ever since Sango had come into his life, she made things a lot more complicated than they usually were.

Sometimes I even forget she's my slave, Miroku thought, chomping on a fresh piece of meat. He swallowed. Because I treat her like a human being, not some disgusting animal. I let her have freedom. All I really wanted was a companion. He snuck a look at Sango. Her head was tipped towards the sky, brown eyes glazed, chewing very, very slowly.

"I don't believe you," she said suddenly, though not facing him.

"What?"

"You said 'nothing'. Usually you'd be groping me by now or hanging out with the guys. But you're alone." She scuffed her feet in the dirt uncomfortably. "And to tell you the truth, it's kind of creepy." Miroku sighed and looked up at the sky.

He could clearly see Orion and his belt, a row of three bright dots, glimmering in the sky. Is that what Sango was looking at? Or was she thinking? He jumped as he felt her shyly touch his hand, just a slight tap, but it sent warmth shooting up him and it seeped into his bones.

"Don't worry about those guys. They're jerks, okay? I bet they'd get their butts whipped, too. But I'm s-sorry. There I said it! I'm sorry I used your weakness to my advantage. I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression." Sango lowered her head in shame, a few loose strands of hair shielding her face from him. He touched her shoulder softly.

But his gaze was not on her face, but elsewhere. His eyes slowly traveled lower and lower, past her tanned, delicate neck to the tops of her breasts and the delicious line of cleavage that she was revealing in that tight Slayer's outfit. Miroku swallowed and licked his lips.

To grope or not to grope! Should I praise Sango's beautiful body like I always do, or should I keep my hands to myself? But our relationship has risen by leaps and bounds over the last couple of days. She actually seems to trust me, if only a little, and I should cherish that, not use it to my advantage?

"But I guess that's what you do in battle, right? You find a person's disadvantage and use it to win." A faint blush was staining her cheeks. "Right?"

"Mmm," Miroku mumbled. Sango shifted her position, which made her breasts bounce and reveal more cleavage. Miroku began to drool.

"Well good night, houshi-sama."

When she got up and walked, away, Miroku found his eyes attached to her butt. What an intriguing little vixen. Someday she'll bear my children.

***

"We thank you ever so much for coming!" the Village Elder cried, practically trembling with excitement. He smiled up at the odd group of monks (and Sango) and gave everyone a toothless smile.

"We heard of your troubles, and we thought we might be able to help," Miroku, the spokesperson, said in his calm, collected voice. He bowed.

"Yes," Hojo piped up. "And we have a excellent Slayer. She's quite good!" He pointed to Sango, who was standing next to Miroku, blushing furiously from his praise. Miroku noticed the exchange. How dare that little wimp talk to his woman! Granted, no one knew that Sango was his slave (slavery was forbidden in the temple); they all thought that she was Miroku's friend.

"I'm not that good," Sango muttered, embarrassed.

"Good enough to beat old Miroku here!" Hojo exclaimed cheerily, clapping the angered monk on the back.

"Yes. She's very good," Miroku mumbled through clenched teeth. It was a good thing that he had so much patience, or else Hojo would be out cold.

The village elder peered up at them with his slitted eyes hooded by thick, shaggy eyebrows.

"Well let's not waste time! I'll show you to your rooms and then tomorrow you can set out after the demon!"

The monks nodded and trailed after the giggling old man.

Aw. He's the nicest old man I've ever met! Sango thought, smiling as she looked at his hunched back.

Senile. Miroku thought, grinning as he looked at Sango's bouncing ass.

Ah. It was a good day indeed.

***

"This is where we found the heaps of bodies," the Village Elder pointed to a clearing in the dense woods, stained with blood. Sango's grip tightened on Hiraikotsu.

"That's awful."

"Who is the most powerful monk here?" he asked. "He should be the leader. And of course your pretty woman will lead the party, too. She looks a might strong!" Sango beamed at the Elder.

"Miroku, obviously," Hojo pointed to the monk, grinning amiably, if not somewhat dumbly.

"Yes! Definitely Miroku," Judah said.

"Miroku!" another man piped.

"It's settled. Miroku, do you feel any demon energy?"

"Yes."

"Well I'll leave you to it!" He left.

"Where's the youkai, Miroku?" Sango asked. She had un-strapped Hiraikotsu and it was now held protectively in front of her.

"In front of us. There." Miroku gestured north.

"Now that you say so, I can feel it, too," Hojo informed everyone.

"Me, too," Judah said.

There was a sudden flash of light and a figure burst out of the leafy foliage before them.

Miroku's mouth dropped open.

It was beautiful. Pale, creamy skin, long, wavy black hair, large brown eyes, ruby red lips, hourglass figure (big breasts, thin waist, large hips), with tight, forming fitting clothes.

"That's the youkai!" Judah cried, clutching his staff.

Miroku found that he couldn't say anything at all. He had never seen someone so beautiful before in his entire life, even Sango paled in comparison.

Sango knew of these youkai. They feasted on weaknesses and used them to their advantage. If you were afraid of wolves, they would turn into wolves. If you hated sharp claws, guess what, they had them.

If you'd do anything for a pretty woman, even chop off your own head, that youkai would no doubt turn into a beautiful woman.

Well, Sango thought. That youkai sure found Miroku's biggest weakness.

The youkai sighed, licking her lips, while running her long, elegant hands all over her body. Miroku's hand started twitching, as if preparing for a fine grope, while drool dripped from his mouth and onto his chin.

Sango sighed.

I knew it. We're all going to die.