InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The Eight-Fold Path ❯ Coping ( Chapter 17 )

Coping

 

 

The kid seemed to have more heart than he knew what to do with.

 

`How much pain has Haruo been through?'

 

Miroku watched from across the room as Haruo shooed the girls off to bed after having made them stew with meat Hachi brought in. He wondered where the boy had learned to cook - then realized it was probably just one more chore taught to him at his grandfather's house.

 

Not for the first time, Miroku mourned the life his first son had been forced to live… and not for the last time, he allowed himself a moment to mourn for the son who did not get a chance.

 

`Life means suffering,' he reminded himself. He closed his eyes and brought his hand forward in a gesture that was as soothing as it was escapist - just as Sango wandered into the room.

 

He didn't have to have his eyes open to know she was there, staring. He imagined her playing with the hem of her apron, opening her mouth and then closing it when she couldn't find the right words.

 

`You are a coward,' he informed himself; acknowledging it and doing something about it were two different things. How could he burden his wife with his broken heart, his lost hopes, when she was in mourning as well?

 

`Sorrow shared is sorrow halved.' Who had told him that? Mushin or a traveling monk? Either way… it rang in his head and wouldn't be chased out.

 

Miroku quirked open an eye and was about to speak up when Haruo came back into the room.

 

“Sango-okaa-sama, I made some dinner.”

 

Sango blinked, staring down at the boy.

 

“It's still warm, would you like some?”

 

Sango forced a smile. “I would like that very much, Haruo. Thank you.”

 

As Haruo dished up some food, Miroku took the time to unobtrusively study his wife. She was disheveled - hair awry, dirt matting the edges of her kosode - and smelled faintly of the polish she used on Hiraikotsu. `She's been working out,' he realized, cringing a bit as he took in the tear tracks down her cheeks.

 

He ached to pull her into his arms. `What if she blames me?'

 

Ah, the root of the problem finally showed itself.

 

Since arriving, Miroku had barricaded himself in a room and meditated, trying to come to terms with the loss of his and Sango's son. Truths: “Life means suffering” and “the origin of suffering is attachment.” Perhaps he was being punished for his ways when he was younger; maybe he just had to teach himself to let go so as to avoid future sorrows.

 

While he retreated, Sango had tried to turn to him. His recitation of the first truth sent her into a tizzy of justifiable anger; she had taken days to speak with him again.

 

Now as he wondered how he'd ever pushed her away, he also wondered how a little boy could have so much heart - and give such a large lesson just by living.

 

---

 

“The Eight-Fold Path” is a serialized fic, written based on prompts from the mirsan_fics community on LiveJournal.

“Aftermath” was originally posted February 13, 2010

Word Count: 500

Prompt: “Heart”