(no subject)
Title: Protection
Fandom: InuYasha
Rating: PG
Pairings: Mir/San
Warnings: None.
A/N: Aamalie, I hope this is acceptable. The angst just didn't want to flow! It's short, too, so apologies for that, but I think this is the best of all the things that came out. Please enjoy!
Edit:
It felt like a tiny shock of pain followed Sango's finger as it traced along the ugly purple mark, now spread up Miroku's arm, a few inches from his shoulder, but he might have imagined it. He wasn't entirely sure when, or how, or even if he was going to tell her about it, but it was out now either way.
"So..." Her voice was quiet and soft. Miroku looked at her, and he could see that her eyes were red and swollen, almost as if she had spent the last two days since she had found out crying. He reached over to touch her cheek, to comfort her, but she tilted her head away to avoid it, running her finger along the mark again. Her touch was gentle, but she might as well have dug her nails into the flesh there for what it felt like - Whether this was truly a physical sensation or the product of his own guilty mind, Miroku wasn't sure.
All these years on his own... Miroku had been traveling since his twelfth birthday, training to build his spiritual powers, and all the while searching for Naraku. Though he went to many villages and found the company of the people there (and often bringing the company of the women back to his bed), he had always been rather alone. Mushin was only seen once every couple of months, and sometimes longer. Hachiemon was a friend, and admittedly a good one at that, but a poor substitute for the human companionship he was learning to live without. A man you spoke to in the marketplace, or a girl you shared your bed with for an evening but never saw again... Those weren't friends or comrades, they weren't the same.
In the early years, Miroku hadn't had many people in his life, but the ones he did held him close and he could remember it fondly. Whenever he was able, whenever it would be safe, his father took him with him on his journeys. This was rare, but Miroku cherished each memory and those filled his mind as if the weeks he spent with his father had lasted longer than the years with Mushin, and the ones on his own. The effect they must have had on him was probably hidden behind that.
Despite the fact that Miroku cared about Sango, cared about her more than anyone in his life or on this earth, he realized now that for all his social skills, he really had no idea what he was doing. It was easy to fake, to flirt and charm - It was even easy to be friends. But, to be a lover, to be a man who could care for Sango, who could never hurt her... He closed his eyes. At that, he was a failure. All of his intent had been to avoid hurting her, but it was clear now that that would never have worked.
"Why..." Miroku's eyes opened when Sango spoke, and he looked at her, feeling guiltier than ever.
"Why... Why didn't you say anything, Houshi-sama?" she asked. Her lips were pressed in a thin line, her expression a cross between grief and anger.
Miroku turned his gaze away, unable to look at her expression, the bad feelings he'd caused so evident on her features. "I thought it would be easier for you," he said. "I thought perhaps... It would hurt you less if you didn't know." That had truly been what he thought, but he realized now that it was quite foolish. How she had found out... He didn't want to think about it. He'd only woken up from it all this morning.
"You were protecting me, then?" she asked slowly, and he nodded. He could protect her physically, but now he seriously doubted any ability - or, truly, any right - to protect her emotionally. She covered his palm with hers and squeezed before standing and walking to the door.
"Better you should protect yourself, Houshi-sama."
Fandom: InuYasha
Rating: PG
Pairings: Mir/San
Warnings: None.
A/N: Aamalie, I hope this is acceptable. The angst just didn't want to flow! It's short, too, so apologies for that, but I think this is the best of all the things that came out. Please enjoy!
Edit:
It felt like a tiny shock of pain followed Sango's finger as it traced along the ugly purple mark, now spread up Miroku's arm, a few inches from his shoulder, but he might have imagined it. He wasn't entirely sure when, or how, or even if he was going to tell her about it, but it was out now either way.
"So..." Her voice was quiet and soft. Miroku looked at her, and he could see that her eyes were red and swollen, almost as if she had spent the last two days since she had found out crying. He reached over to touch her cheek, to comfort her, but she tilted her head away to avoid it, running her finger along the mark again. Her touch was gentle, but she might as well have dug her nails into the flesh there for what it felt like - Whether this was truly a physical sensation or the product of his own guilty mind, Miroku wasn't sure.
All these years on his own... Miroku had been traveling since his twelfth birthday, training to build his spiritual powers, and all the while searching for Naraku. Though he went to many villages and found the company of the people there (and often bringing the company of the women back to his bed), he had always been rather alone. Mushin was only seen once every couple of months, and sometimes longer. Hachiemon was a friend, and admittedly a good one at that, but a poor substitute for the human companionship he was learning to live without. A man you spoke to in the marketplace, or a girl you shared your bed with for an evening but never saw again... Those weren't friends or comrades, they weren't the same.
In the early years, Miroku hadn't had many people in his life, but the ones he did held him close and he could remember it fondly. Whenever he was able, whenever it would be safe, his father took him with him on his journeys. This was rare, but Miroku cherished each memory and those filled his mind as if the weeks he spent with his father had lasted longer than the years with Mushin, and the ones on his own. The effect they must have had on him was probably hidden behind that.
Despite the fact that Miroku cared about Sango, cared about her more than anyone in his life or on this earth, he realized now that for all his social skills, he really had no idea what he was doing. It was easy to fake, to flirt and charm - It was even easy to be friends. But, to be a lover, to be a man who could care for Sango, who could never hurt her... He closed his eyes. At that, he was a failure. All of his intent had been to avoid hurting her, but it was clear now that that would never have worked.
"Why..." Miroku's eyes opened when Sango spoke, and he looked at her, feeling guiltier than ever.
"Why... Why didn't you say anything, Houshi-sama?" she asked. Her lips were pressed in a thin line, her expression a cross between grief and anger.
Miroku turned his gaze away, unable to look at her expression, the bad feelings he'd caused so evident on her features. "I thought it would be easier for you," he said. "I thought perhaps... It would hurt you less if you didn't know." That had truly been what he thought, but he realized now that it was quite foolish. How she had found out... He didn't want to think about it. He'd only woken up from it all this morning.
"You were protecting me, then?" she asked slowly, and he nodded. He could protect her physically, but now he seriously doubted any ability - or, truly, any right - to protect her emotionally. She covered his palm with hers and squeezed before standing and walking to the door.
"Better you should protect yourself, Houshi-sama."