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What If ...
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“Arigato gozaimasu, taijiya-san. We cannot thank you enough.”
“Please, don’t worry about it,” I gave the villager a quick smile, before placing a bag of pellets into his upright palms. “I cleared up the nest but the few that snuck into the forest may be back eventually. If this happens you’ll need to perform the procedure I’ve just demonstrated.”
“Hai, hai. We’ll do as we’ve been instructed.”
His wife came out from the hut with a bow, and gave her thanks as well while offering a small collection of coins. Again I smiled, bowed, and turned my back to the couple.
We were staying at a rather large village, of which its occupants were plagued with a variety of petty demonic problems. By the second week we’d exorcised almost every hut, and we’d suspected that this was our last day before traveling again.
“How did it go?” A placid voice drifted to me as I walked along the main street. The corners of my lips tugged in response, honey eyes shifting until they finally caught the form of the man clad in black and indigo,
“Good enough. It was another rodent problem. Apparently they’re all over the town.”
I continued to walk, but as he stepped in stride with me we laced our fingers together.
“What about you? How did the exorcism go?”
His shoulders shrugged vaguely, “I posted ofuda on all sides of their shelter, but I believe they were paranoid with the mishaps of all their neighbors. I sensed no evil, but if they insisted upon precaution I wouldn’t refuse their payment.”
I nodded, having little to say in response to his tale. This was our day in and day out schedule – and had been for the past dozen weeks of our marriage.
The village was cheery as we passed by, wives and children waving and wishing us a good evening. I would smile back timidly, unaccustomed to such open friendliness.
It seemed that our small group had become eminent through Naraku’s defeat, and the titles of Sango the youkai taijiya and the monk Miroku had spread among villages like wildfire. The fame never quite settled with me, but I did appreciate the business. With nearly every plagued household in Japan begging for our assistance, houshi-sama and I were on our way to accumulating a small fortune.
Turning a corner we set eyes upon the inn we’d been staying at for the past two weeks. The innkeeper’s wife stood ready to greet us, and all three of us bowed in unison. The old woman was always smiling, her sandy hair always pulled back into a bun and eyes hidden under merry old wrinkles. The most prominent aspect of her was her perfume – foreign and odd, which she seemed to douse herself in every morning. Despite her warmhearted nature, I could not help but try to avoid her. Some days I was fine, but others I found myself deeply revolted by her scent.
“Did the day treat you two well?” she inquired, the gentle breeze catching a strand or two of her hair.
The fragrant wafted and I struggled to hold my smile. Dear gods, it was one of those days.
“It certainly did, Mei-sama,” the houshi replied, unfazed by the aroma. I’d asked him about it before, but he quirked an eyebrow at my peculiar complaint. He’d actually found it to be quite nice.
“And this is your last night with us?” she questioned, her grin remaining but lessening in its intensity.
“Hai. We will be leaving tomorrow,” he explained.
“Oh well. I suppose we couldn’t keep you forever,” the small elder teased, laughing to herself. “As a token of this village’s gratitude won’t you join my husband and I for dinner? We’ve prepared quite a meal in hopes that you will accept our appreciation.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Miroku responded lightheartedly. “The offering was unnecessary, but we’ll gladly accept it. Ne, Sango?”
“Mm?” I glanced between them, only half paying attention as I fought with my facial expressions. With nothing else to do, I bowed sharply, “H-hai. We would be most honored.”
The old woman laughed again, “Excellent. Everything has been prepared, so come. This way, this way.” She shuffled toward the back room, and we followed obediently.
Once inside the small room, we were greeted by the innkeeper and shown to our mats. Of course fate would have it that I was to sit aside his wife and her pungent scent.
‘Easy, taijiya. You can do this. Just ignore it and it’ll go away.’
I gulped thickly, hoping the saliva would pacify the wavering nausea in my gut.
Murmuring thanks alongside the others, I reluctantly reached for a bowl that lay atop the tray in front of me. My chopsticks clumsily fumbled through the clumps of rice. Even a bland dish such as this was unappetizing at the moment. The room was permeated with the combine smell of all the food, an aroma I had at many points in my life found delightful. Now – they were downright appalling.
‘Am I sick? I’ve never experienced this before … ’
“Madam exorcist, are you feeling well?” I heard the headman’s frail voice question.
“Hm ? O-oh, h-hai. I’m fine,” I answered, struggling with a smile.
“Are you certain? You look so pale.”
“Husband!” The old woman chided, “If the young lady says she’s fine, she’s fine! Don’t go off questioning the youngens over their complexion.”
My hands came up to wave dismissively, giving a sad little laugh, “No, no. It’s quite alright. He may be right. I’ll go out and get some air.” I stood, but not before bowing once more, “Thank you very much.”
While exiting with my back turned, I could clearly make out the sound of a man getting smacked upside the head and the rickety old scowl of ‘now look what you’ve done’.
Unhurriedly, if not a bit cautiously, I set steady footfalls down the hallway until finding our room and slipping the shouji open. It was dark in the dimming sunlight, but altogether settling in its familiarity. Despite the comforts of the somewhat stuffy air I trailed three yards toward the door adjacent to me to welcome the soft breeze of outdoors.
Long lashes fluttered closed with an intake of breath, appreciative of the wind’s subtle hint of burning firewood and the dying crisp of winter past. Spring was beginning.
I stood for a moment longer, paying homage to the changing season, before sliding the shouji closed once more. Having beaten my temporary sickness, I set about stripping from my suit – tugging the red band from my hair and pausing here and there to buff out a smudge on the rosy armor with my thumb.
The black material was crumpled around my waist, ready to be pushed down shapely hips, when the door to the inner hallway slipped open without so much as a knock. In the span of a gasp my hands had come to circle my chest and the loosened wrappings that had bound it. Amber eyes glared fiercely at what could be made visible on the opposing side of the creaked door – one violet-tinted eye peeping back at me, with a carefree tease to follow,
“Peek-a-boo.”
Relieved, though still a bit irritated, “Just what do you think you’re doing?”
“Enjoying the show, of course.”
“Hmph,” I retorted, turning my back to him. “As if you don’t see that enough … will you hurry up and close that door?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he chimed, relentless in his playful teasing. Some shuffling, then the sound of a door shutting.
“Thank you, houshi-sama.”
Warm hands grasped me around the waist, inspiring a silent gasp to escape my throat. I felt his body press up against me from behind, while his hot breath met my neck,
“What was that, love? I think I’m hearing wrong.”
Hazel eyes darted around, trying to find the source of this interrogation. Realization struck when I’d recalled my previous word of gratitude. ‘Houshi-sama’. Not ‘Miroku’, or ‘anata’.
“Gomen nasai,” I offered, lowering my head and tightening the grip around my chest subconsciously.
“I didn’t mean that intentionally. It’s a hard habit to break, hou- M-Miroku …” The name was above a whisper, spoken tentatively with open unfamiliarity.
“It’s alright, I know you’re trying.” He planted a kiss on my neck, chuckling. “I just find it somewhat amusing. How many other women do you know who refer to their husbands as ‘lord monk’?”
“Oh stop mocking me,” I growled, pushing away from him and his roaming hands. “I need to get accustomed to it, and then this whole matter will be over with, alright?”
I continued undressing, despite the monk’s watchful interest.
“Alright, alright. But just in case – perhaps I should start calling you ‘demon slayer’ to encourage the switch. But maybe you’d prefer to be called that, especially in –”
“Finish the sentence and you’re sleeping outside.”
His mouth puckered inward, appearing to be steadfastly ‘buttoned’. In spite of my warning I smirked, shifting my sleeping yukata over my shoulders and tying it around my middle. I stepped toward him again, loosely wrapping my arms around his shoulders and placing a fleeting kiss against his lips, “Goodnight.”
With that I unhooked myself and nearly made a dive for the futon covers. Only when I was comfortably snuggled within the blankets did I turn my eyes back to him – still in the same spot, not a muscle moved. He regarded me with a confused, arched eyebrow, “You’re going to bed?”
“Mm-hm.”
I studied his perplexed expression for a moment longer, before slipping my eyes closed. Leisurely I listened to my husband’s movement, the sound of clothing being handled and moved around. The covers lifted beside me, and I was soon nuzzling up against his welcoming heat with a contented sigh.
Miroku’s hand lightly came to tilt my chin up. His lips met mine in a dreamlike fashion, fleeting and loose. I kissed him back likewise, appreciative yet focusing more on sleep rather than adoration.
“Was the day really that exhausting for you?” His hand stoked my side affectionately as he spoke.
“Nnn, not really. The sun’s already set, so there’s little else we can do aside from sleep.”
His lips captured mine again in a chuckle, “Oh?” I noticed the trail his hand was taking, and how he seemed more focused on our kiss. When the traveling hand found its destination and began an intimate caress I pulled away slightly, “Not tonight, love.”
“Why not?” He protested in a muffle, mouthing the area below my chin.
I let out a mixed groan, caught between two types of feelings, “You can live without one night, monk.” Despite my reasoning his actions did not let up. Eventually I had to catch him by the chin and drag him up from my neck.
His mischievous expression died down to a look of unease when I met him with sincere eyes,
“Honestly Miroku, stop … I’m not feeling too well.”
“How so?”
Reluctant to tell him, let alone myself the truth, I averted my eyes and gave the slightest of shrugs, “ … Dinner didn’t settle with me, I suppose.”
“You didn’t even touch your meal, Sango.” He stated pointedly. He sounded almost accusatory.
Amber eyes shot back to him, while my voice took on its own defensive tone, “Well what would you like me to say then, hm? I’m just a little sick alright? You don’t need to banter with me about skipping a meal.”
“But I’m not –”
“I mean you know I can’t tolerate that woman’s perfume, and yet you encouraged her to sit aside me in that small room. Of course I feel sick, so you have no reason to blame anything else for –”
“Sango, I’m not bl –”
“And there is absolutely no need to look at me like I’m some helpless soul to fawn over merely because of it. It’s nothing, alright? I just need some sleep.”
Indigo eyes stared down at me in silence. Perhaps that was too much. Shifting my gaze, I rolled over and let my back face him, “Gomen nasai, anata. Good night.”
Nevertheless, he wrapped his arms around and spooned me, “Sweet dreams, love. I hope you feel better soon.”
-*-
“Nnugh …”
Eyelids twitched with unease, brows furrowed in discomfort. Steadily blurry eyes wavered open to paste the pieces of swimming darkness together and form a ceiling. I stared up at it for a long time, wondering why I was awake. The shouji door glowed a ghostly hue of blue, signaling early morning.
The feeling that had woken me stirred again – twisted my gut in the most menacing of ways. Helpless against the sensation I placed my palm against my abdomen and sat up, the blankets rolling down to pool at my lap. The monk lay relatively still, the arm hugging my hips undisturbed by my movement.
“…”
Nothing.
“…”
Another churn, and I shut my eyes against the discomfort.
“…”
Nothing again.
Waiting a further minute, I debated with myself the chances of being sick. My mind seemed hot and feverish from the actions of my rebellious stomach, begging it to remain docile and allow the body sleep. Nevertheless it shifted and gurgled, replicating the swells of a stormy sea.
Feeling defenseless I attempted to clear my mind, taking deep inhales. Eyes fluttered open at the calm of the storm, unwilling to settle with one course of action or another.
The lurch of my stomach strengthened my resolve. My hand struck up to clamp across my mouth, rivaled by the acid that hit the back of my throat. The rest was a blur.
The blankets scrambled. The shouji slammed open. My palms hit the engawa outside. My head fell over the side as my body began emptying the contents of my stomach.
My lips trembled, legs shook uncontrollably as another wave let loose. I choked for breath, too overcome by the gagging to register the bitter taste or burning throat. I wanted this over with – desperately.
Lightly I felt a hand comb through my draped hair and pull it back. Then it tucked the smaller strands framing my face behind my ears. I couldn’t look up, couldn’t leave my position, but I knew who it was,
“Houshi-sa –”
My body continued its detoxification, careless of my disgust, pain, and embarrassment.
Eventually it reduced to dry heaves, having nothing further to empty. At that time I gulped in air, receiving the varied effects of my little episode. We waited five minutes in caution, before I was escorted back into the room and led to the futon’s covers.
Miroku was silent and considerate. He patiently made me drink from his canteen, then put me to bed; tucking the blankets around me though my shivers were not cold induced. My eyes closed briefly, opening again to find the warm gaze of my husband staring back. We faced each other on our sides, heads resting on our pillows, close enough to feel gentle wisps of breath. I must have smelt disgusting.
“Are you feeling better?” he inquired quietly.
“Not entirely,” I rasped out. My throat burned, hurt to swallow. “…It woke me up so suddenly. And then …” I paused, the rest unnecessary to say. I rolled my shoulder, letting the snug cover fall against my neck.
We lay in silence, and I took the moment to rest my eyes. Again I met cobalt eyes, and was modestly perplexed by the trace of a foreign combination. Uncertainty, authority, concern, hopefulness …
“Do you …” he hesitated, searching my gaze, “Do you think it could be …”
Honey eyes widened at what he might be guessing at, heart pulsing a beat of distress. Against my better nature I glanced away. My hand subconsciously clutched the mat beneath me, and I measured the hushed atmosphere before I could respond, “… I don’t know.”
The answer did not come without its burden of guilt. I locked my eyes on a folded corner of the blanket to avoid his expression.
‘Why can’t I look at him when I say that? It’s the truth, I don’t know …’
I heard him sigh and shrunk a bit more, grip tightening.
‘I’m not keeping it from him if I’m not certain for myself … Could I tell him that - … my cycle did not come last month? … Could I tell him so soon?’
“Hn?”
The pressure of his lips met my forehead, forcing me to look up in question. Pulling back he gave me a contented smile, a certain light brightening his eyes, “We’ll find out soon enough.”
I did not reflect his optimism, and it showed.
“What?”
“Well…” I lifted my head slightly, brows arched, “What then …?”
We stared at each other for a long moment, both fully aware of the topic at hand. I’d played this situation in my mind time and time again; always pleading it would never occur.
“What else would you expect?” He would say. “When you agreed to bare our children did you honestly think you’d be able to hold onto your title as a demon slayer?”
And again I would be caught between two worlds – my purpose in life, and what was expected of me as a wife.
“ It’s not your life Sango. Not anymore”
What would he do if I actually was with child? Would he protect me? Forbid me to fight? Lock me up in Kaede’s village and have hiraikotsu melted down into a washboard? I would not have it.
In any case, I am perfectly able on my own. If I am able to protect myself, I should have no trouble defending the life inside of me. It is not as if I’m foolish enough to don my armor at eight months pregnant – and aside the fact that would be a long, long time from now.
‘It is best to keep it a secret from him – until he discovers on his own, or the swell of my belly gives it away.’
I will not be put away.
Nonetheless the monk held his smile. It had faltered subtly, and his eyes lost that sparkle, but it was still there. It then turned mischievous, and I suddenly found myself pinned to the futon by his bodyweight.
“H-hey! H-houshi-sama, what are you – ”
“I’m getting you out of those troublesome thoughts, taijiya.”
“Hmph. Who says they were troubling?”
“Generally when someone resembles a lost kitten they’re thinking of unpleasantries.” His fingers laced with mine against the mat.
“And this is your way of avoiding important topics?”
My husband leaned down, touching his nose with mine, “Hm – it can be left for another day.” He pressed his lips to mine, drawing me away from the subject. In hurried panic, I pulled away and turned my head to the side,
“Nyah – don’t do that.”
“Why not?” Miroku nuzzled my cheek, trying to crane his head to capture my lips again.
“Well if you’d just vomited I wouldn’t want to kiss you.”
“I don’t care really.”
“That’s so gross,” I wined in a tiny voice, bringing my fingers over my mouth so he couldn’t reach it.
At this he pouted his lower lip out, “So cruel. Oooh well, I suppose I’ll just have to suffice with this.”
His hands, now free of mine, snaked down my sides to tickle my waist.
“YAAAH! H-houshi – ahah! S-stop!”
He laughed in response and continued his relentless attack, amused as I wiggled and kicked beneath him.
“N-nooo, hahahah! You really need to sto-ahahah! Houshiii-”
Lurch
In an immediate reaction to my stomach I bolted upright, and – BANG! – collided foreheads with my husband.
“Aaaah~” I fell back down, holding a hand to my aching head.
The houshi chuckled despite his pain, also rubbing his head, “I know you said stop, but was it really necessary to head-butt me for not?”
“Nnnn – I felt sick,” I mumbled, now massaging the bridge of my nose, “But that about cleared it out of my system.”
“Oh. Gomen nasai,” he replied, looking slightly guilty now. “I suppose this wasn’t that smart then, ne?”
“Probably not.”
He smirked crookedly, before kissing my offended forehead and rolling off, “Alright. There’s still three hours or so before daylight. Sleep is best for you.”
I turned to my side and snuggled against the blanket again, “Mmm, I’m glad you agree.”
Smiling gently Miroku extended his arms and pulled me closer to his warm chest. I accepted the invite, curling up and tucking my head in the crook of his neck.
“Feel better, love,” he purred into my hair, toying loose strands between his fingers.
“Nn. Sweet dreams, koibito,” In turn I placed a kiss against his neck, before sighing contently and falling back asleep.
Thus, it began.
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