The Vigil
Sango sat there quietly in the dark room, watching the moon throw shadows over the man she loved. When had she fallen in love with Miroku? She couldn't think of a defining moment when she suddenly realized that she cared for him; it had happened gradually, day-by-day, hour-by-hour, minute-by-minute - slowly the monk had captured her heart. Several hours ago, his screams had filled the Castle, as the blue mage Bakura and the healer mage Kaiba tried to break the curse that dominated his hand, and his life. This had been the final try of many, and no one knew whether the curse was broken. That secret was held by Bakura and the demon mage lay dying in a nearby room, hit by the backlash of the curse. Miroku's best friend and fellow demon fighter, InuYasha, had also been badly hurt, his hands and arms reduced to raw flesh because of the third-degree burns he had suffered for his friend.
Two hours ago, a wounded Kaiba had managed to heal the worst of Miroku's wounds; deep burn marks on his chest and back, going right through his heart, caused by the magic of the curse. Then Kaiba had collapsed in Hiten's arms, the Thunder Demon who had fallen in love with a human, before he could heal either Bakura or InuYasha.
Now the monk was sleeping, but he was ghost-pale and his breathing was shallow.
Yesterday Sango feared that she had lost him forever, and he had barely survived. And then she heard that they were going to try one last time to break the curse, and that had decided her course of action. She would give Miroku a future, or at least the promise of one.
Miroku had been only six years old when he watched his father die, consumed by the cursed air void in his right hand. And at the moment of his father's death, the void appeared on Miroku's hand.
Fortunately his caretaker, an elderly monk, was standing next to the boy and quickly sealed the void with a spell and prayer beads. For the rest of his childhood, he was trained to protect his right hand and never unseal it. And for ten years, he kept it covered, as it progressively grew larger, going from one inch in diameter to two. On his sixteenth birthday, Miroku left the monastery and decided to use his air void for good, turning his curse into a blessing. He began to wander throughout Otherworld, offering his services in the never-ending fight against demons. And the air void in his hand gave him the power to prevail against them. It could suck anything of any size or power into itself, never to be seen again.
A strange sense of fatalism began to grow as time passed, and Miroku, knowing that he would not have a long life, began to ask every pretty girl if she would bear his child. His reasoning was simple: a demon named Naraku had cursed his grandfather with the void, then his father, and now himself. If he could not kill Naraku, then his son must carry on the fight. Various reactions met his request: angry slaps left their imprint on his face many times, or embarrassed blushes and giggles as the girls ran away from him, and even on a few occasions, the response was positive. Yet he did nothing. Even though he asked, he could not follow through. He was waiting for something - for someone. And when he was 24, he met her.
A few months before, Miroku had joined up with a human girl named Kagome and the third male of the Princess of Otherworld, a half-demon named InuYasha. And then a demon extermination named Sango joined their group and Miroku knew that she was what he was been waiting for. Sango was young, only 15, but in Otherworld where time passed so slowly, the age difference didn't matter. He had stopped aging at 18 and so would she.
But he had no idea how to tell her he loved her and he had nothing to offer her - no future, no promises he could keep, so he loved her in silence.
Yesterday that had all changed. Sango went to the Fox Demon Kurama, the first male of Princess Aara and head of the Protectors, and she had asked him only one question: was she fertile? And the Fox had nodded.
Last night she had given herself to the monk she had loved for so long, knowing that he might not have a future and that if they conceived a child, that child would carry the curse of his father. But it was the only thing she could give him, the only thing she had to offer -- life itself. And Miroku had gratefully accepted her love and her gift, and they had consummated their long-hidden love. And the next morning, after far too short a time together, he was taken away from her arms, to the tower in one last attempt to break Naraku's curse.
An hour later, screams had shattered the silence of the afternoon and four bodies lay strewn about the mage's tower. Bakura, blue blood from internal injuries coming from his mouth and nose; InuYasha, burnt badly; Kaiba, hurt in the terrible backlash, and Miroku, with magical burns through his body and through his heart.
Darkness fell and Miroku slept unmoving, his hand tightly bound and wrapped in the prayer beads as it had been for 21 years. And no one knew if the curse had been broken, or if it remained. There was a distinct possibly that the attempt had widened the void and that Miroku's life had been cut even shorter.
So Sango waited and watched over her love, holding a silent vigil over him, drinking in his countenance as though she would never see him again. She memorized the soft contours of his face, his dark hair cut in messy bangs, the three earrings that gleamed in the moonlight: one on the right, two on the left. Although his eyes were tightly closed, she knew the color of his dark blue eyes and the mischievous twinkle they often held. And now she knew his body, the feel of him, the strength of his hands and also their gentleness of their caress, the warmth of his lips, and the weight of him pressed over her -- and in her. "If it is only this one night" she had said yesterday, but she knew in her heart that one night would never be enough. If he died, she would mourn him forever.
Her heart ached, hoping, praying for a miracle, but fearing to trust in that hope. Fearing that the pain of loss would be too great to bear. A single tear traced down her cheek, glistening in the light like a tiny falling star. "Miroku," she whispered.
She reached out and took his hand, the one without the void, and press her lips to it, kissing his palm tenderly. "I love you," she told him, "I will always love you."
The silent night smothered her words with its velvet curtain of darkness and Sango sat there through the night, watching her love, praying for a future.