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Her Promise pt.I
- May -
The wind whipped and howled mercilessly outside. I curled my spine at the sound of it, bringing the futon’s covers over my head. I sure as hell wouldn’t give up my sleep for this. Every muscle. Every bone. Every cell ached and pulsed and cried for rest. Rest that seemed impossible to obtain.
The sides of the hut rattled under another gust and I creased my brows impatiently.
‘They’re quiet. Can’t you hear they’re quiet for once? Can’t I relax?’
A soft noise reached my ear just then. My breath hitched, straining for sound until it finally came again in the beginning of a hiccupping wail of discontentment. Grunting in exasperation I turned over and tucked the covers against my head,
“It’s your turn.”
“Is it?” I heard Miroku offer back groggily.
“Yes.” I replied bitterly, “They kept me up all last night. Tonight’s your night.”
“Fine, fine,” he yawned, and I felt him sit up and lean over across the futon. A basket creaked as a gentle weight was lifted from it. The monk straightened back to his own side of the pallet where he continued to fidget with the disgruntled being. Finally, with a sigh:
“I think she’s hungry.”
I felt about ready to cry at those words. Offering a muffled whine of my own I hiked the covers down and sat up on achy limbs, turning heavily lidded eyes toward an equally sleep-deprived husband,
“… And if she’s not?”
“Then I’m at a loss, Sango.” This was said with breathy impatience.
I swallowed the retort before it could escape my throat. Snapping back at him wouldn’t help the situation. Last time I did so I evoked a chorus of crying babies.
Cautiously I snaked my hands underneath his and retrieved the infant. She was red-faced from her woes, her little fists balled and curled close to her frame.
“Joji, joji~ (baby girl) why do you make such a fuss, Sai?”
Resting her in one arm I used the other to slip the sleeve of the kosode off my shoulder and part the cloth. Her whimpers died down at the prospect of nourishment, and the room grew silent as she began to suckle.
My strained eyes closed for a moment before resting back on her face – at last tranquil and appeased. I combed my fingertips over the soft puff of dark hair she had, ignoring the goosebumps that rose over my skin in the frigid air.
My eyes then traveled to the basket by my side and were surprised to behold a pair of blue staring back at me with doe-eyed curiosity. Though stirred by the charm of it, I was still tired – and seeing them fresh and full of vivacity had a wave of exhaustion rolling up my spine,
“Anata … Kaori is awake as well.”
Muffled with sleep: “What’s she doing?”
I was about to answer when the wind howled again. The walls shuddered, a distant ‘thunk’ erupting from a statue falling in the garden. The abandon infant suddenly felt vulnerable without her sister, and her expression soon puckered to reveal these emotions. Before the cry could even be uttered the monk had his daughter in his arms, cradling her to his bare chest. The few sniffles were quickly converted to a barely audible giggle of delight.
“There we go. Who’s a happy baby? ^_^ ”
“Quit bragging,” I muttered. Miroku certainly had better luck with the babies – but I presumed it was only because he could make some pretty absurd faces and possessed shiny things on his ears. Apparently our children were more attracted to humor rather than adherent tenderness.
The monk shifted back into the blankets again and gingerly laid Kaori between us. He then propped his head up on his elbow and quietly watched Sai feed.
Finding the gaze rather awkward I shifted three quarters of the way away from him, shrugging my shoulders to keep the other side of the kosode from falling,
“You can go back to sleep, you know …”
“It’s alright. I can wait until she’s finished.” He let out a loud yawn from behind me, and I was compelled to do the same.
Childrearing was more difficult than we had anticipated. Well, even more so since the unexpected birth of twins. Kaede-sama had made it clear that newborns required hourly attention, but I had thought she was exaggerating to an extent. Instead, waking up to cater to the infants was a nightly occurrence.
We were both patient people – him more so than me, of course – but the consistent sleep deprivation was certainly putting a strain of our relationship. During some nights I found that if I snapped at him he would snap back. He’d apologize the next morning, and he’d accept my apology in return. Still – things seemed off …
I turned honey eyes over my shoulder to observe my husband. Since I had turned my back from him his gaze was focused elsewhere, some unseen world of visionary space between the futon and the far corner of the room. He looked tired. Worn. His brows seemed heavier than they typically were.
Poor houshi-sama.
Things have not been easy for him the past few months. During the third trimester of my pregnancy he was forced to put up with my mood swings, and even after the children were born he was subjected to my bad attitude. I honestly tried not to take out my frustration on him, but it is hard to find stress relievers at home alone in a hut half a mile from the village.
Not only that. Pregnancy brought its restrictions, and the monk had to do without certain things. He understood well enough, and even agreed to wait two months after the birth while I recovered. Now I presume he is anxious or disgruntled. Our times of staying up all night have changed quite dramatically in context.
While we used to lie wrapped in each other’s arms he is now left waiting as I cradle our young. The body his hands once swept over has grown soft with months of lax muscles – changes that have evoked self consciousness and make me shirk from his touch. The intimates that he once claimed his own belong to our daughters, and to partake now would be obscene.
When there is free time I usually plead for it to be spent resting. And when there are briefer moments when I decide otherwise, they are ceased abruptly by an interrupting cry. In cold honesty, we hadn’t been together in several months…
I have deprived my husband of my wifely obligations. Am I wicked for it …?
As if becoming aware of my negative thoughts Sai squirmed against my breast and declared with a small grunt that she was finished. I took her to my shoulder and soothed her back until her stomach was pacified. By this point Kaori used up all her energy trying to reach out to the golden hoops in her father’s earlobe. She now lay asleep, salivating on the tiny fingers she had stuck in her mouth. Quietly I lay Sai back into the basket and then repeated the process with her sister.
Miroku had not drawn his eyes away from the invisible spot, and only broke the trance when I scuttled under the blankets again. Instead of resuming our typical spooning position, however, I faced him and wrapped my arms securely around his frame. The monk seemed confused for a second or two but then enclosed me in his own embrace, his chin tucked into my hair.
“What’s wrong?” I asked against his neck, my eyes closed and pressed against the warmth of it.
“Tired,” was all he offered.
He was trying to use my tricks. ‘Tired’ was my frequent response to averting questions about my problems, simply because it was easier to say that then to explain. Perhaps now wasn’t the best time for discussion, but I wouldn’t let him hide for long.
“You’re leaving with InuYasha in the morning?”
“Yes. Why do you ask?”
“Stay here. Sleep in. I’ll take care of breakfast and the children. We have things we need to discuss.”
“You don’t need to do that, Sango,” he breathed into my hair tiredly, pausing, “… what things?”
“For the morning, love.” I kissed his pulse and nuzzled closer into his body heat. He sighed, too exhausted to insist, and simply nodded.
-*-
The smell of cooking rice woke the monk that morning. He drew in the scent for a long moment, his appetite stirring, before he sat up in bed. The covers crumpled around his abdomen as he stretched bear arms high above his head with a quiet yawn. Navy eyes opened and squinted against the light of the sun over the mountain tops. I had left the shouji open when I left him an hour or so ago, letting the rays warm the room.
Miroku shifted his legs out from under the mat, looking to the basket beside the futon and finding it empty. Perplexed, he stood – making sure his indigo hakama pants were secure from the tussle of sleep – before exiting for the engawa. Four more steps found him in front of the main room and he peered in to see what his family had been doing while he slept.
I bent over the fire pit pouring another bowl of water into the rice pot, breaking up the clumps with a spoon to assure the moisture was evenly distributed. Kaori lay asleep in the pouch on my back while Sai, the first one awake, occupied herself trying to crawl. She couldn’t, of course, and as a result she merely lay belly down on the floorboards and jerked her limbs about as if she were trying to swim. Occasionally she erupted in a few bubbly noises, and I laughed and thanked myself for washing the floor as she drooled and laved at it with her tongue.
“Has she been doing that all morning?”
My eyes darted up at my husband as he entered the room. He walked past me and bent to scoop up the squirming baby. She made another babble sound and he imitated it with amusement.
I smirked and secured the straps around my shoulders,
“Why yes she has. Sai’s been quite the ball of energy – woke me up at dawn pulling my hair.”
“Is that why it’s in a bun now?”
I rolled my eyes at him, forgetting I’d pulled the dangling stands up into a very messy bunch earlier,
“No, I decided to try something new. Stylish?”
“Sexy,” he corrected in gruff tease. At the same time he sat beside me at the fire pit and ducked in quickly to give my exposed neck a kiss.
I tapped his arm with the wooden spoon and scooted another inch away,
“Behave yourself. We’re in the presence of impressionable eyes.”
On that note I peered down at the monk’s lap where Sai was staring up at us from the prison of her father’s crossed legs. Having the attention of both her parents she froze as if caught in the midst of a crime – which at the moment would be pulling at the houshi’s toes. She leaned heavily backward and bounced against his abdomen, inclining her head to look up at him.
The twins were still too young to have many characteristics of a certain gender. At the moment, clad in nothing but her diaper, Sai looked like quite the replica of her presently bare-chested chichi-ue. Though shaped like mine she had his color eyes, and her hair was the same deep shade. She also had that overpowering look of innocent when she knew she was doing something wrong.
Kaori looked relatively the same, but they were definitely fraternal. Her hair was the dark russet like mine, though she sported the same blue eyes as Sai. And while the latter enjoyed pulling, and taking, and reaching, and squirming, Kaori simply enjoyed being held and noticed. She was much more mellow than her counterpart.
“So … You wanted to talk about something?”
“Hm?” I looked up at Miroku again, wondering what exactly he spoke of before the idea came back to me, “Oh – right.”
I lifted the pot lid to dish out a helping of rice for him, “I was thinking – now that the girls are six months – and spring is approaching … Maybe we should take them to see your master.”
“Mushin-sama?”
“I’m certain he’s curious about them. Perhaps he could bless them too.”
The monk paused, accepting the bowl I handed to him, and stated reluctantly, “It’s still a bit nippy out there.”
“They’ll be fine if we bundle them up,” I offered, busying my eyes elsewhere. “It’s time for them to go outside and learn there’s a world out there. They need to travel - see new places.” My voice strained to keep the anticipation out of it, “I would like to see new places…”
There was silence in the room, save for Sai’s clanking of the wooden spoon against the floor.
But finally,
“Sango, you know it was never my intention to confine you.”
“And it is not your fault,” I added airily. “It has only been necessary to keep them safe.”
It was no hidden fact that I still pined for the open road. My jealousy was often apparent whenever InuYasha and my husband left for another mission without me. As every day went past I found my fingers itching to take up hiraikotsu, to wrap myself in the rough leather of my uniform. But both had remained untouched for a small eternity. My fighting spirit could not be subdued by maternal instinct – no matter how many times I attempted to suppress it.
“Just … Allow me this one trip. It’s not too far off and the path is not dangerous. If anything it should help to clear my cabin fever.”
I regarded him with hopeful eyes, and he gave a little sigh of defeat.
“Alright. I’ll go inform InuYasha that he’ll be on his mission unaccompanied.”
I flashed him a pearly smile as a wave of excitement rushed over me. Finally – a chance to leave the village again. Given the gentle creatures among us I couldn’t quite give him the enthusiastic embrace I wished to. So, in turn, I simply cupped the sides of his face and planted him a sound kiss.
“Arigato, anata ~ ”
-*-
The wind twined around us and I shut my eyes tightly against the stands of hair that whipped at my face. The clouds were a heavy shade of gray and thunder boomed on the distant horizon.
“Miroku-danna – I think we’re heading into the storm from last night.”
Hachi, in his lengthy yellow creature form, hovered closer to the tree line. We huddled on top and kept the children snug between us. They were wrapped in layer upon layer, but their pink noses and small whimpers told us of their rising discontentment.
“Do you think we could find a cave?” Miroku asked, concern evident in his voice.
“Little good that would do us after nightfall. It would be too cold for the two of them.”
I wrapped the blanket tighter around Sai as she struggled to break free of the confines. She responded with an agitated pout that was lost in the wind. Growing intolerant of the situation my eyes scanned the misty plains in front of us, until the silhouette of a village climbing the mountaintop appeared.
“Hachi, take us to the left a little. I can see a village not too far off.”
“Right on it, Lady Sango.”
The closer we approached the heavier the weather became. Not a quarter of a mile from our safe haven when the torrents of heaven released themselves – rain so cold and thick that we could barely see five feet in front of us.
Hachi landed at the top of a steep hillside. Before he was even done transforming the monk was already pushing me in the direction of the nearest hut.
“B-But what about me?” I heard the tanuki whine from behind us.
“It’s bad enough requesting rooming with two infants,” the monk explained with the shortness of breath accompanying his quick step. “A youkai on top of that it just inconceivable.”
“Oh. Okay then. I’ll just … sleep under a rock. Or something.” … Heavy sigh emo
I looked back over my shoulder and observed as our distance slowly faded the tanuki into the rain. “Aren’t you being a little …” the words died on my lips after meeting my husband’s forward-bound expression of determination. It seemed as if he’d be damned to have his daughters caught in the pouring rain for another instant.
We approached the first establishment we saw, the only one on the hilltop, that seemed to be rather spacious. The houshi knocked loudly three times with emphasized pause. A slow moment later an old man creaked open the wooden door, then upon seeing the assurance of a monk, pushed it open completely.
“I beg of you, Sir. We are in desperate need of lodging until the storm passes. Allow us your sanctuary and I in turn shall perform any needed holy services.”
“Sure, sure. Come in, come in. Please~”
Offering our gratitude we slipped past the man as he stepped aside, kicking our sandals off at the entrance. The old man closed the door against the wind and rolled the shoulders of his hunched back. He turned to us with a smile, then a curiously arched eyebrow of confusion, followed by another smile,
“I know you for somewhere, Lord Monk.”
“You do,” Miroku reiterated, perplexed himself. However he abandoned the trip down memory lane to bow humbly – mindful of the small weight he held gently in the pack on his back. “We are honored that you would share your home with us. We will try to be as tolerable as possible, with regards to the company we travel with.”
The man raised his bushy eyebrow again, but smiled, “Think nothing of it. We treat strangers here as guests …” he lifted a winkled hand to the side of his face and called down one of the hallways, “Koharu – we have company.”
At the name my spine went rigid, the phantom flame of once freshly-born jealously licking at my nerves. I hoped I was exaggerating. It was a common name. But to my displeasure I too recognized the old man, and the atmosphere of the home was slowly coming back to me.
“Coming~” chimed an unseen voice.
As the rushing footsteps neared our location I shut my eyes and counted them off with individual waves of disdain.
‘Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn.’
Then came the gasp.
“Miroku-sama!!”
Then came the squeal of excitement.
“K-Koharu … What a pleasant surprise.” The faked enthusiasm.
Then the approaching of light feet.
“Ya’ll are soaked to the bone! It’s rainin’ that hard?”
I ventured to open my eyes at this point. She stood inches away from my husband, bobbing excitedly on her toes. She didn’t seem to notice me. Not surprising.
She’d changed since the last we had seen her. She appeared to have filled into her frame … was more curvy, if you will. The scrappy little thing we had met nearly three years ago had adapted to her more nourishing surroundings in this village – she seemed to glow with the flush on her cheeks and sparkle in her eyes.
My heart sunk a little. Against my better nature I felt of coils of possession curl around the beating organ.
But there was a nudge in the pack against my back that quelled the temptation before I could be consumed.
“Were ya’ll in the area?”
“In a sense. Sango and I were journeying to my Master’s temple before the weather stopped us.”
“Really?” Now she became aware of my presence, a brief sweep over my features and registering who I was. Then, with her expression slipping into something I couldn’t quite read, she turned back to Miroku and lightly whacked his shoulder with humor.
“So ya’ll were gonna pass right through without so much as a hello?”
The houshi offered a light chuckle, but nothing more. Koharu, upon the silence, reached up her dainty little fingers and looked as if she were about to do something. But then, spotting me in her peripheral vision, decided it would be more hospitable to approach me first.
She smiled and advanced toward me, “Allow me to take your bag?”
“My bag …?”
She touched one of the straps at my shoulder and I immediately knew of what she spoke. Before she could release the tension off my clavicle I stopped her and shifted the strap back on, blushing with embarrassment,
“No thank you, I must keep it on.”
“But the outside of it’s drenched. I’m just going to hang it u-OH!!”
The girl let out a startled yelp as I felt the pack bumble around on my back again.
My awkward blush crawled and I apologized. Reaching behind me I undid the fasten that held the rabbit pelt secure on the pack. Once it was pulled away, Koharu found herself staring back at a pair of tiny familiar tinted eyes.
“She doesn’t like it in there very much,” I explained, reluctantly.
Koharu was silent as she processed things – why I was carrying a baby; why it was only the monk and I traveling; all that could possibly entail from the two previous summations. And then she glanced to the pack on the monk’s back and seemed to pale.
“I-I-I see …”
She took a step back, winded and developing a tint of red herself,
“Okay. I’ll just … I’ll just get ya’ll some towels to dry off …”
With that she turned and walked down the hallway perpendicular to us with brisk movements. Miroku uncomfortably scratched his head at the situation, turning to me and hoping to find a mutual gaze but found none. My head was turned from him to the floor, arms crossed in defensive posture.
He said nothing, not wanting to evoke hostility – not here, at least.
So we followed the old man down another hallway to one of the spare rooms, the pending argument looming on our chests.
-*-
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