InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Loss of a Loved One ❯ A life is Lost ( Chapter 1 )

The darkness loomed overhead like an eerie shadow, compressing the air tightly around them. It was damp, yet at the same time an icy breeze whipped through the air in motion with the haunting, gothic trees. On a sculptured hill, overlooking a desolated forest clearing stood four figures, all tired and wounded. Two males and two females, but without the common air one might find on another group of such genders.

 

The woman, truly a woman for all could see the proud gleam in her eye of experience and knowledge. She had lived, had performed deeds that countless others would deem inhumane. Killed thousands and lived to tell the tale. Her tale, her story, her life. There would never be another chance for her and still she rejoiced, for she was proud of living and she was proud that she had been given the chance in the first place. Offers such as those were a rare tale, as revenge is not often looked upon kindly.

 

His blood, his filthy, rotten blood! She was proud to spill it and see it plainly across her blade. Admittedly, she had not dealt the final blow, but the revenge was still sweet all the same.

 

Briefly, she wondered if it was sick to imagine herself bathing in his gory remains. Dismissing it, she already knew that it was…but then again, why should she deny herself the pleasure of imagination?

 

The thoughts that had always come to mind were sad ones, bitter memories and little hope for what could be in the future. Now it seemed as if the weight had been lifted and she could breathe properly, without tension or worry. She only hoped that the others, her friends, no, her family, felt as complete she did.

 

To her side, the man, who ultimately kept her heart, stood panting. His handsome face was lowered in pain and a grimace replaced the once charming smile. Pity filled her like never before. There would never be one like this man and still, the kamis were as stubborn as ever. In seconds, if he did not survive the attack being brought on by his own treacherous limb, he would be gone and remain as nothing but a memory.

 

It tore at her heart to see him like this, so broken, so ashamed!

 

But what could she do? She was neither a sorceress nor a healer. She could only hope and pray that she may be allowed to keep at least one person that she loved.

 

One hand, wrapped bound and sealed to protect himself from himself. His other: a golden staff of mysterious origin laden with brass ornaments and trinkets. To him, life was as precious beloved and it was not to be taken lightly. Assassins, fighters or natural born killers such as herself, usually disregarded this type of thought. It was not that they found it unimportant or a ridiculous subject to broach, on the contrary, it was truth, but to ponder on the words his kind would say, made her eyes truly open, and her heart fill with shameful guilt.

 

Though, she could not be blamed directly, for he too was a sinner, a killer of lives. His religion and strict way of teaching rebuked such actions. He would be punished and most severely too if his deeds were ever heard about.

 

But, she knew that he knew, life was never as simple as following a few rules, it was about making decisions and doing what you believe is right. She loved him because he could decide and knew that life with no honour was no life at all. The way of the Buddha demanded that no one should be killed, yet thousands of regular temple goers, return home each day with hands more stained and filthy than the most ruthless of assassins.

 

A monk, a simple Buddhist monk. Why did he have to suffer so? Why would the Buddha choose one of his own to undergo such incredible pain? It was a regular thought which brought up answer after answer, yet none brought satisfaction to her soul. Time after time she wished that he was another, she wished that someone else had been chosen and he could be relieved from his pain. Yet time after time she would reawaken again to find him cursed as always, but thankfully he was still surviving.

 

She supposed that was one thing they had in common; they were both survivors. Both had lost parents to irreversible ends, both had lived lives deprived of love and both had sworn their lives to exact revenge on the one that had caused their suffering. But now that their revenge had been exacted, what was to become of them?

 

Smiling slightly, she remembered that one fateful day when she'd realised exactly what she felt for her holy comrade.

-.-.-

It was a stunning full moon and the night air was surprisingly cool. Inuyasha and Kagome were together somewhere and Shippo had already fallen asleep….thus leaving the two remainders of the group to `enjoy' each others deeply appreciated company.

 

At the time, Miroku had been no more than an ally. She considered him as a friend and a deeply respected team mate. Despite his obvious `lack of control', he was charming and polite and always ready to assist her. He made her feel wanted.

 

That night, as they'd sat together alone, neither had spoke, while each spent the precious time sorting out their muddled thoughts, which had become even more muddled as the silence grew on.

 

Neither had the insight to think that the other was thinking of them.

 

It was only when, as absently as one might brush the hair off your face, she moved and laid a gentle hand upon his own. The feel of his hand beneath hers was startling and she moved it away in shock and embarrassment. Sango stood and made to run off, but halted at the firm hand that encircled her upper arm. He was standing right beside her with her arm in his grip. Watching her face intently.

 

She dared not look at him, it was too frightening, too real his appraisal of her that she mocked him in front of everyone to settle her own thoughts. She couldn't believe that his fondling, his incessant teasing had any true feeling behind it. Because, if that were true... then…

 

“Sango look at me.”

 

She ignored his command and pulled her arm away from him. “Miroku, let me go!”

 

“Sango, stop this now.”

 

This time, she knew it was an order that she couldn't refuse. Her head lifted ever so slightly till guilty brown eyes met his intense violet ones. Her heart contracted violently.

Every time she looked at him, into his eyes, she knew she couldn't look away. Everything he felt for her was shining in them, so clear and bright that she felt her strong resolve crumbling into small pieces.

 

“We must stop lying to each other.” He said calmly, releasing her arm from its hold. Deciding that now was the time to put things straight, she opened her mouth to utter a cutting retort.

 

“I'm sorry Miroku, I don't know what you're talking about and even if I did---''

 

She was cut off instantly when he grabbed both her shoulders and kissed her. Again and again.

--

 

That night, things had changed, and for the better too. No longer was she Sango, the fearless demon slayer that was tough and strong and could rival any man,… she was Sango, yes a demon slayer and yes just as good as any man, but she was also a proud woman who was loved by the best man in the world.

 

Even if their time together was short, she had promised to be strong for his sake, and keep his memory treasured in her heart. As long as she lived he would never be forgotten.

 

Hearing another groan come from his trembling body she dropped her weapons and knelt at his side wiping his sweaty forehead with her sleeve. Her sister, Kagome, was using her powers to try and ease his suffering as much as possible. Whitish-blue light was sieving from her fingers and soaking his body as it repeatedly convulsed. A small tear fell down her face before she had time to wipe it away. `No you fool!' she scolded herself irritably. `You promised him you'd be strong!'

 

But even as she thought the words, more tears were falling, heavier and more rapidly than the first. A sob escaped her quivering lips. `Oh God! I'm so weak! I promised I promised!'

But, resounding deep in her shattering heart was a cold metallic voice reminding her that it was a promise she had never been able to keep. Not to Miroku, to herself or to anyone. She was simply too weak and she didn't deserve his love; after all, wasn't she the one who had denied him repeatedly and purposely crushed him with every mock and insult?

 

`Oh Miroku!' she sobbed. `I'm so, so sorry!”

--- ---

Kagome knelt silently watching two of the strongest people she had ever known break down in each other's arms. It was touching and at the same time horribly devastating. How could fate be so cruel to the both of them? They deserved one chance at least to start anew and live normal lives without corruption and deceit and betrayal. They deserved to be happy, living together, married and with lots of children running about around them. It was what they all deserved.

 

But Kagome had learnt, after two rugged years in their world, just how unfair life could be. It didn't matter that the two of them only had each other, or that without the other life meant absolutely nothing. Fate was cruel, and took great pleasure in seeing the misfortune it directed upon others. Their lives were mere toys in a chest full of playthings, old and totally insignificant.

 

It was sad, and worse still, sad that everyone accepted it so readily without putting up a fight. Though when she reflected, there didn't seem to be much one could do against such a relentless foe.

 

Patting Sango on the back reassuringly, she and Inuyasha helped lift Miroku up so that they could carry him back to the village.

--- ---

 

Every day for her was a struggle.

 

She was accustomed to it and could endure. There was no light at the end of the tunnel.

 

Her only task left was to remain seemingly indifferent to the movements and actions around her. It was not easy; there were many times she had wanted to lash out and scream at the injustice of it all. To cry in the arms of her friend and treasure the remaining hopes in her life.

 

Granted, there were very few, her hopes and dreams had dissipated with the morning wind… just as his fated life had blown away.

 

Maybe she should have known it, maybe she should have prepared. Maybe hoping that they had a chance for a future and a life together had all been a mistake. A simple slip of the tongue.

 

Though, in the near future when she had better reasserted herself and relieved the overload of tears and tension, she could remember him and thank the Kamis that she had been gifted with something to remember him by.

 

Sango smiled at herself fondly and with a Miroku-like grope she felt the surface of her expanding belly.

`Lets just hope our son isn't a pervert too'.

~***~

Well that's it folks! Hope you like it. Please give reviews and stuff. Comments and all that. I want to know if it's shit okay?