InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ My Life, My Love ❯ Circumstances ( Chapter 8 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

A/N: Okay, sorry for the wait! To all my faithful readers…I thank you! What I have to say next does not apply to you guys. I got a very nasty e-mail saying that my story sucked. And you'll never guess the reason why. The e-mail said that because I was black, I shouldn't be allowed onto the internet to write my stories. I assure you, I was acutely upset at the person who wrote it, considering the racism in the message. But I refuse to let that little spur take away what I enjoy doing. So, all in all, this A/N is just a reassurance for my fans who do like to read my work. I won't ever quit writing because of a racist psycho who has no life. So, without further ado, here's Chapter 8 of My Life, My Love!

Chapter 8: Circumstances

Damn her for making me wait this long. She was finally here. I'd been waiting since my party started for her to get here. I automatically knew who she was. Not only was her face unforgettable, but her spiritual signature was hard to miss, too. I remember her from the bookstore; my aunt's. She wasn't a classical beauty; far from it. But she had this irresistible attraction. I felt as if I were being drawn to her. This feeling was all too familiar. I knew that she sensed my aura. She tensed when she felt me behind her.

I couldn't help myself. My aunt had put in a strange lighting system. It felt like an American dance club, with the dark lights and pulsing atmosphere. I had watched her hips sway from across the room with an almost hypnotic rhythm in the near darkness. Aunt Naomi was ranting about a young woman named `Sango'. I grinned in inner knowing. I knew that name anywhere.

I loved how she looked with her eyes closed, enjoying the music. My father was American, so I inherited his taste of American hip-hop. And by the looks of it, Sango didn't mind it too much.

When I made my way behind her, I bent down and whispered in her ear, “So, how've you been, Sango?”

At first, when she stopped moving, I figured she'd heard me. But that thought quickly magnified when it was quickly understated. Before I could blink, Sango had rounded and punched me in my left pectoral, effectively winding me. When she finally caught sight of my face, her eyes widened in utter shock.

“You!” came her first word, “W-what the hell are you doing here!”

Ah, poor Sango; poor, sweet, innocent Sango. She really had no idea who I was. I knew it was my fault, having forgotten to tell her my name at the bookstore, although I knew hers. She was so breathtaking, that I had temporarily forgotten my name at the time of our meeting.

“Ah, Sango. Come to celebrate, have you?” I said with a smile, trying to calm my hormones.

Sango gaped at me as if I were naked. Actually, that wasn't a bad thought. I could easily imagine Sango wearing absolutely nothing. She was very beautiful and attractive, after all.

Aunt Naomi came, kissed my cheek, and ruffled my hair.

“Oh, Sango,” she said, smiling warmly, “I see you've met Miroku. Isn't he cute?” I beamed proudly. My aunt sure had a way with words.

“Y-you're Miroku,” Sango shrieked incredulously, “You! You can't be Miroku! You were that pervert from last week! Y-you were there, in the store!”

Although I was enjoying the blush that was developing across her cheeks, I really wish Sango hadn't pointed that little factor out. My aunt wasn't supposed to find out about that until after I had gone back to my dorm. My thoughts switched back to Sango.

`I bet she looks simply ravishing when she's being fu—,' my pleasant thoughts were interrupted by aunt Naomi's shouting accompanied by a sharp cuff to the back of my head.

“Miroku, you little imp! You were at the bookstore? When did you get here? Where'd you stay!”

I rubbed the sore spot about six inches from the nape of my neck.

“Damn, you hit hard,” she whacked me again. I quickly apologized, “Sorry! I got here about four days ago. The school let us out a little earlier than I, or anyone else expected. I stayed in a hotel, because I didn't want you to have to put up with me any longer than you'd have to.”

My aunt snorted.

“Nonsense, Miroku! You're welcome here anytime, sweetheart! Although you won't be staying with me,” she looked toward Sango. She looked just this side of fainting right where she stood. “Sango has offered to take you in for the month that you're here. Isn't that wonderful?”

I grinned largely, while Sango paled considerably, “It sure is, Aunt Naomi, it sure is.”

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Things couldn't get any better. I was at the beautiful Lady Sango's home…with her…all alone.

Oh, the elation!

Of course, the nice little bruise forming underneath my right eye was payment for my exhilaration.

I'm not quite sure what happened, but I remember Aunt Naomi saying something about rice balls, and then leaving towards the kitchen…oh yes, now I remember. It seems that I may have let my hand accidentally slip onto Sango's supple rear end in a fit of bliss from the news of my housing arrangement. I remember being thrown, quite heavily I might add, into a red car. And now, here I am, sitting on Sango's couch, with an ice cube over my eye.

Ah, but in the end, it was all worth it. I could take all the pain in the world just to have one good feel on Sango. Well, maybe not all the pain in the world, but a great deal.

Sango was in the shower; I could hear the water spraying. Alas, I can only imagine; the steam floating through the bathroom, the water trickling down her round, firm breast. And me, licking th—,”

…SQUEAK…

The door creaked open and Sango stepped out, clad in a pink pajama set. It wasn't a tiny set of clothes, but on Sango, it clung to every last curve of her body. My mouth fell open. It was a reflexive action, unstoppable. She glanced at me and glared, but when she saw my mouth agape, she blushed.

Damn her! It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that this gorgeous woman standing in front of me could do this to my brain. It wasn't fair that I couldn't touch her, lest I be knocked into next year. And it damn well wasn't fair that she looked the same as she did five hundred plus years ago, excluding a few minor details.

“What're you staring at?” she grumbled. My mouth snapped shut.

“Uh,” was my intelligent answer, “I…I was… thinking.”

“About what? Some naked woman?” Oh, if only she knew. But it wasn't just any woman; it was her. Was that… jealousy I heard in her voice?

She walked past me, and into the kitchen. Retracting from the refrigerator, she came with some cheese, mayonnaise, and bread. I rose from my seat, taking my ice cube with me.

“What're doing?” I asked, looking over her shoulder. I felt her tense up.

“What does it look like?” she retorted hotly. “I'm making you some food.” I grinned.

“Why thank you, Lady Sango, how kind of you!”

She rolled her eyes, “Look, I'm only playing good hostess, okay? I promised your aunt that I would take you in, because she didn't have any room for you. So don't get comfortable, because in a month's time, you'll be out of here.”

“Is that the only reason you took me in? Are you sure that you didn't feel any… attraction to the circumstances of this situation?” I made sure to emphasize the word `attraction' as I grabbed her bottom.

WHACK!

“Pervert! What's your problem! Don't you have any shame at all!” I held my blazing cheek.

“Of course. But when it comes to pretty women, such as yourself, the line between shameful and shameless blurs considerably,” I held my blazing cheek. Sango's cheeks were on also flame colored.

“Keep your hands to yourself, pervert,” she growled. Before I could say anything more, she spun around on her heel, the sandwich forgotten, and marched to—what I assumed—was her room, and slammed the door. I winced at the bang left in its wake.

Walking toward her door, I wondered where I was supposed to sleep. Knocking lightly, I asked Sango where I was to bed down.

“Sango, there's a room down the hall. I assume you wish for me to sleep there?”

“Don't ASSUME anything! When you assume, you make an ASS out of YOU and ME! And I am most certainly not an ass! Sleep on the roof, for all I give a damn!” came her blatant reply.

“I don't get it,” I responded, baffled. I heard her exasperated sigh on the other side of the door.

“Never mind! The room down the hall is yours. Now leave me the hell alone, pervert!”

I sighed in defeat, and shuffled down the hall. It wasn't until I'd laid out all my belongings that I understood what Sango meant.

“Oh, I get it! Assume, ass-u-me!”

“Shut up!” came through the wall.

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The sun streamed in through the wine-red curtains, staining the light a dark maroon. I tried to remain asleep, annoyed with the light. But Sango's mystifying aura about the room brought her with it, effectively rousing me from my sleep. Although my eyes remained closed, my other senses didn't. I could virtually feel everything Sango was doing, from the raising of the curtains to the muffled steps that carried her to my bed.

“Hey,” she gently shook me, “Pervert, wake up.” I groaned falsely and rolled over.

“No-o-o…” I groaned, hoping I'd fooled her into thinking I was still asleep.

“I know you're awake, you pervert. Now get up! I'm going to be late for work,” she commanded. I grinned. It was going to take more than that to awake me.

“Fine,” she grumbled, “We'll do it the hard way.”

I couldn't help but think dirty thoughts at that comment. And it didn't help that Sango had given up shaking my shoulder to climb over me, reaching for the pillow lying on the other side of the bed.

Since the bed was against a wall, I got a good and full view down Sango's shirt before I flipped her over and laughed at the mixture of surprise and anger glittering in her eyes.

“Get off!”

“Good morning to you too,” I grinned, and proceeded to stroke her backside.

WHACK.

“Keep your hands to yourself, pervert!” Sango roared.

I could only cradle my bruised cheek. “Yes, Lady Sango,” I replied.

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“Oh, Mr. Houshi-sama, you're so funny!”

I smirked. I was enjoying my day, so far. Ever since I'd arrived at the bookstore, beautiful women had practically thrown themselves at my feet. I hadn't even started my day, and already women were following me around. Not that I minded of course.

“Thank you. And please, call me Miroku. Mr. Houshi-sama is my father,” I flashed a smile at her, “And he's not nearly as much fun as I am.”

I caught the delighted shimmer in the woman's fawn colored eyes. With dark brown hair, sparkling brown eyes, and a figure to die for, this `Koharu', as she'd called herself, really was quite beautiful. But, Kami knows, she was nothing compared to my beautiful Sango.

“So, Miroku,” she drawled mischievously, tracing my arm with her finger “What's a girl got to do to…reap the benefits of your not-so-fun father?”

I grinned, catching the connotation underneath her words.

“I don't know. Maybe we can find out later…” I let the sentence trail off at the immediate look of liking that spread across her face as she handed me her phone number on a piece of paper.

“Take that,” she slid the piece of paper into my hand, caressing my palm in the process, “for later. Maybe you could prove how much fun you are someday.” She started toward the exit, “See you later, `Roki.” She left, just as Sango came from the back room with an armful of books. The look on her face could have frozen the sun, if given the chance.

“'Roki'?” she sneered, “What the hell is a `Roki'?”

I shrugged innocently, but underneath, I shivered at the intense glare she was giving me. “Why Sango, I haven't the slightest idea of what you're talking about. I have eyes for only you.”

She scoffed. “Pervert; you're supposed to be helping me with these books. After all, it is your legacy.”

It was true. At any time, my aunt and uncle could turn the bookstore over to me. In order to keep the store running, the next generation was needed to continue. Lucky for me, I'm the next generation.

“You're right. But in order for me to inherit the store, I'd need an heir. And I fully intend to take over the store, when the time comes,” I exhaled lightly, and touched a bookshelf, “I love this old place. When I was little, my mother used to bring me in here to read stories from the children's section. We always used to sit in that chair right over there.”

I pointed to a rocking chair in the far corner of the store. It was a large chair, with cherry wood covering. I remembered how shiny it used to be. Now it was covered in a layer of dust, from lack of use. Sango cleared her throat, startling me from my memories of my mother.

“What… what happened to your mother?” She seemed cautious. My gaze leveled back to hers, and hardened. Of course, those memories were conceived long before I decided to pursue my profession.

“She's still alive. She lives near downtown Tokyo. She's also—,” I was cut off by Aunt Naomi shouting.

“Sango, Miroku! That's all for today! Thanks so much for your help. I'll call you if I need help tomorrow,” she nodded at Sango and me, “You're all done!”

“You're very welcome, Mrs. Sakawa. Are you sure you don't need any help?” Sango asked.

Aunt Naomi shook her head, and then turned to me.

“Miroku, have you been behaving yourself with Sango?” she gave me a reprimanding look. I shrugged.

“Why, of course, my beloved and adored aunt! Would I do otherwise?”

She rolled her eyes and snorted.

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Back at Sango's house, I laid down on the couch, while Sango sat across from me. The silence drifting and floating between us was like a barrier. And it was twice as deafening.

“So, my beautiful Sango,” she glared at me, “I mean, Lady Sango, what shall we talk about?” I tried to make conversation. Sango fidgeted with her hands.

“This might seem little personal, but,” she glanced at me, “what did you say happened to your mother?”

I looked at her curiously.

“Excuse me?”

She fidgeted again.

“Your—your mother. You were telling me about your mother in the bookstore,” she said vigilantly.

My eyes lifted in recognition. I realized she was referring to when Aunt Naomi walked into the middle of an explanation of my mother.

“Yes,” I said slowly, wanting to bite the words, “My mother, she lives near downtown Tokyo. She and I moved here when I turned seven… a year after my father died.”

Sango's face didn't hold pity or delight.

“I'm… sorry, Miroku,” she lowered her eyes, “Really.”

I smiled, “Don't worry about it. You didn't do anything, now did you?”

She shook her head.

“You do realize that was the first time you ever called me by my name, don't you?”

“It was? Really?” she asked curiously.

I nodded.

“Yes. Since I've been here, your name for me has always been `Pervert'.”

“It's your own fault,” she grumbled, “You were the one stroking my ass, not the other way around.”

“Of course, I'm not complaining; I think it's endearing that you've made a pet name for me this early,” I grinned behind the pillow that landed in my face. I was still grinning when it slid down my face.

“Just what exactly are you majoring in at college?” she growled. I didn't miss the way she hastily changed the subject at hand.

Deciding to humor her at her own fixture, I replied nonchalantly, “Sexual Psychology.”

Sango's mouth dropped. I wanted so badly to laugh at the look on her face, but I restrained myself.

“You're m-majoring in what?” she stuttered.

“Sexual Psychology,” I repeated.

“Bu-but why Sexual Psychology? Why not regular Psychology?”

I shrugged, “I'll tell you the same thing I told my mother: Because I'm interested in what makes humans tick. I want to know why we need that kind of fulfillment from others; why different people want and need different things.”

Sango blushed.

“B-but I didn't even know that branch of Psychology existed!”

“Well now you know,” I sat upright and stretched, “Besides, it wouldn't hurt to know all the pleasure points of a woman, now would it?”

Sango's face looked ready to burst into flames.

“Pervert! You didn't have to tell me that!” she yelled.

I rose from the couch and knelt in front of her.

“Of course I had to tell you that,” touched her cheek and felt her fortitude flare in suspicion, “Besides, how could I keep anything from my wife?”

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A/N: Whoa! Sexual Psychology! Wife! What the hell! Don't worry;it'll all make sense later!