Fated To Die – Part Two: Separated

On his own again, he tried to get back to the way things were before he met up with Inuyasha and Kagome. But he simply didn't have the spirit any longer. It was as if he had left his heart behind: he no longer moved with any enthusiasm, and he felt weary all the time. His imminent death seemed to be looming closer than ever, taunting his misery and inviting him into its embrace. He didn't want to go the easy way and take his own life, but the idea grew more tempting until he longed for a sharp weapon or a cliff. He actually found himself praying for a demon to come and tear him apart, since he already felt torn apart on the inside.

His death was always on his mind, plaguing him, but now solitude also consumed his thoughts. He had never been bothered with traveling alone before; now the misery of his loneliness ate away at him like a ravenous wolf, robbing him of his will to wake up the next day. Nights were the worst. If he slept he only had nightmares waiting for him; if he stayed awake the darkness closed in around him, suffocating in its cold silence. How he had the strength to move he could not tell, but move he did, despite his longing to fall into eternal slumber. Dreading to sleep and dreading to be awake, it was a wonder he could keep himself alive at all. His pace was sluggish, dark rings beginning to form under his eyes from lack of sleep.

He came to a village and hoped he could find peace and forgetfulness by being his usual lecherous self to every pretty girl he saw. That too, he discovered, was gone from him. His eyes registered that these women were beautiful, and he seemed to recall that he had been attracted to such women, but his heart only called for one, and she was gone from him forever. Not once did he stop thinking about her since his departure, and her final words to him echoed in his mind and heart: I'll be with you. He wished she had never said those words. It would have been so much easier for him to forget if she had not. Now her memory followed him, a pain far deeper than any other he experienced.

There was no escape from thoughts of her, and he had no desire to escape. He loved the Demon Slayer, and painful as it was for him to think of her, he continued to do so. The wind whispered her name, teasing his ear with the word that had become so dear to him. Twittering birds brought back her laughter, and when he came into towns he half expected her to appear. But she did not appear, and the disappointment sunk him further into the bog of despair. What hurt him the most was that he had left her without even saying good-bye. She would never now how dear she was to him, how his heart ached for her, how much he truly and wholly loved her. She would continue on with her life, and even as he whispered her name on his last breath, she would not know. When he thought of this, that was when suicide was most appealing.

He thought of turning back, of going to her and telling her how much he cared, but then rejected the idea. If he did tell her, it would only cause more grief. However she reacted could not change the fact that he would leave her some day. He couldn't bear to hurt Sango like that; he would rather face a thousand years apart from her than to hurt that blessed woman. So he forced himself to press onward, far away from the woman he loved. The further he traveled, the more empty and broken he felt until it was as if he had scattered his heart on the ground and watched as the wind picked up the fragments and carried them away. Sango, my love and my life... He felt like he was dying without her-- dying emotionally, which was the worst kind of death. But he refused to turn back and risk hurting Sango. He didn't even look over his shoulder, knowing he would be tempted to return to her if he did.

On and on. Does anybody know what we are living for?

Sometimes she forgot why she was still alive. The next step got harder for her to take, and she would've been only too glad to fall and allow death to claim her, but then like a bolt of lightning she remembered. The grief of his loss had taken such a strong hold on her that she had almost forgotten what it was she was sad about. Now she remembered, every moment that had passed from the moment they met to the moment he left her. She had been walking when she remembered, and she was hit so powerfully by the sorrow of that memory that she fell to her knees as she had done many times since she left Inuyasha and Kagome. She wept and wept until her body no longer had strength to produce tears. She wept over the loss of the memory. How could she have forgotten him, when he occupied her thoughts so often when they were together?

As she wept she realized that she couldn't have truly forgotten him. Perhaps her mind had been too weary to think of it, her spirit too dampened to dwell on such bittersweet memories. She loved him too dearly to forget. She wept harder, this time because she was separated from that man she so dearly loved and so desperately needed by her side. Once she was out of tears she slumped over on her side. Her feet had continued taking her forward in hopes of finding Miroku, but the more she walked the more she lost that hope. And then came the doubts: What if he didn't even love her? What if he was happier by himself? What if he found another woman? Losing him to another woman was a fear she always harbored, ever since she first began to develop feelings for him. She didn't know what she would do if she found him in the arms of another woman; she tried not to think about it.

"Miss?" Sango saw three pretty girls swarm around her, all of them looking concerned. Seeing them made her think of Miroku, and tears formed in her eyes. One of the girls was studying her face.

"She looks sick. We need to get her inside."

"Pei will help us," said another girl. "Pei, come help!" At once a boy no older than Inuyasha came up. He might've been handsome, but since Sango only had eyes for Miroku she couldn't really tell. The boy bent down and picked her up as if she were a doll.

"She's horribly light," he noted to the girls. He carried her into a nearby village. The whole way, she was wishing it were Miroku holding her instead of this strange boy. She began to cry softly.

"Are you all right, miss?" asked one of the girls. Sango didn't answer; her grief was too strong to express in words. The three girls and the boy brought her to a tavern. She noticed there was a fuda on the door, and immediately connected it with Miroku. She covered her face with her hands so no one would see her tearstained face.

"Do you think she's possessed by a demon?" wondered the boy.

"If she is, I wish that monk had stayed!" answered one of the girls. Sango brought her hands away and brightened up slightly at the mention of a monk. Could it be Miroku?

"Did you say a monk was here?" she asked in a quivering voice.

"Yeah," the girl replied. "He was so handsome."

"My papa owns the tavern," added the second girl. "The monk was so kind. He got rid of the dark cloud hovering over our tavern in return for some food. Papa offered a night's stay, but the monk declined." That's Miroku, all right, thought Sango with a smile. Knowing him, he had scammed the innocent people. She was glad that nothing had changed about him.

"I saw him too," chimed in the third girl. "He looked kind of sad to me."

"Did... he say anything to any of you?" questioned Sango. She wasn't sure if she wanted the answer, but she still had to know. These girls were far prettier than her and she knew that Miroku would've gone out of his way to grope all three of them.

"He didn't seem to notice I was there when he was in the tavern," said the second girl. "He was polite enough, but when he spoke it was like he wasn't even really there." This news worried Sango. The Miroku she knew would never have acted that way. It would've broken her heart to hear him groping another woman, but at least then she would know that it was him. Miroku, what's wrong with you? She stood up with help from her boomerang.

"I'll be going now," she said.

"No way!" protested the first girl, putting a restraining hand on Sango's shoulder. "You look like you're ready to collapse any second."

"Don't try and stop me!" shouted Sango. "If he was here than he may be close by! Please let me go to him!" She pushed away from the girl. The four youths gaped at her. "Now, which way did he go?" she asked in her most business-like manner. They mutely pointed in the direction. She thanked them and started on her way.

"I wonder if she's Sango?" mused the second girl. Sango stopped in her tracks and had to lean on her boomerang for support. She turned around.

"What did you just say?" The girl blushed and smiled sheepishly.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. He told my papa and I not to tell Sango he'd been here. I guess I screwed that up." Why didn't he want me to know he was here? Does he not want me around anymore? That explained why he left her without even saying good-bye. Want me or not, I have to find him. That's all I can think of to do.

"I'm going now," stated Sango. "Good-bye." She bowed and walked off, following the same path that Miroku took earlier that day. The visit to the village brought her spirits back a little, and the hope of finding Miroku was rekindled. Maybe he wasn't far away. She was troubled that he didn't want her to be with him any longer, and asked herself if she really wanted to find him only to lose him again. Would one moment of happiness be worth the crushing heartbreak that followed? Perhaps it was better for her to give up; that was what Miroku wanted, after all. But in spite of the knowledge that it would be wounded, her heart continued to lead her towards him.

Her life was being eaten away with him gone, and when he rejected her there would be no more life. Still she pressed on, still she searched for him, and she knew she would not give up until she saw him again, come what may. It was the price she paid for loving such a fickle man; she couldn't help it. She loved him exactly the way he was, perversion and all. She would even allow him to grope her if she found him, just to feel the touch of his hand again. But what if he treated her the same way as the girl in the village? What if he didn't even notice her, or just walked away again? Even if she was abandoned again, she simply had to see him if she was ever going to be happy. He carried her happiness with him, even though he didn't know it, and she had to be with him.

He was beginning to feel it had been a mistake for him to leave. He thought he was doing it for the good of his friends, but as he walked he realized that it had been his own selfish reasons that drove him to leave. He didn't want them to see him in his weakness any longer, and certainly didn't want them to witness his horrific death. He thought of all the things he should have said to them before he left, and to Sango in particular. None of them would understand why he had left without warning and why he had not wanted them following him. He had been so immersed in his own problems at the time that he hadn't considered how his friends would react. He was foolish to leave, but he didn't want to go back. He had chosen his path and now had to walk in it.

Walking became a chore. His feet had been hard enough to lift as it was, but now they felt like granite slabs connected to his legs. His body was protesting his insistence to get further and further away from Sango. His stomach refused to take in food, and when he forced it down it would only come back up a few minutes later. Everything around and within him screamed out the name of his one love and still he ignored the urges to return to her. He couldn't go back to her; he couldn't bear to let her watch him die. When the time came he would point the Wind Tunnel at himself and just let it take him. The death was going to be painful enough without having Sango around to witness it.

He gazed at his right hand often. He wished the Wind Tunnel would hurry up and kill him and spare him the torture of waiting for death. Perhaps that was part of the curse too. He would die soon with no heir, and that was fine with him. He didn't want a child if it was not borne by Sango, and he loved her too dearly to take advantage of her like that. Besides, no child deserved to suffer the same sorrow and grief he had. The more he thought about it, the more decisive he became. The curse of the Wind Tunnel would end with him, never to claim the life of another innocent person. This made him a little sad, for he always wanted to be a father, but he would sacrifice that selfish desire.

When he thought about Sango, he wondered what she was thinking about. Would he dare hope that she was thinking of him? It was a small comfort to have that hope. He could live through her and the others, perhaps, until the time when they discovered he had died. He wondered how they would react and what they would say. Luckily they had never known his constant sorrow, so in their memory he would be a cheerful, lecherous monk instead of a depressed lovesick monk that missed the woman he loved every moment of the day. Kagome and Shippo might cry; Inuyasha would be sad, but never admit it; Sango... well, he wasn't sure what she would do, and he wouldn't let himself think about it. The thought of her crying at his death was the only thing that stopped him from bringing it early.

Sango was thinking about Miroku again, not that she ever stopped thinking about him since the moment he left. She thought about their last talk before his departure, and thought of all the things she could have said to him that might have convinced him not to leave. But at the time she hadn't known he would be leaving. She had seen him staring at his right hand. It was so obvious now that he had left because of the Wind Tunnel; why hadn't she been able to see that when he was still with her? She had only touched him that one time to caress his cheek. If she ever found him she would fall into his arms and cling to him, never to let him get away from her again.

Maybe she would see him once she came to the top of the next hill. Maybe he was just beyond this ridge. Maybe, maybe, maybe... It was the only thing keeping her going. She would get her hopes up as she saw a high place, thinking she would be able to spot him, but then her hopes would plummet again when she reached the top and he was nowhere to be found. It was a constant up and down, just like the constant up and down of the hills and valleys. Up went her hopes with the hills, and down they went again with the valleys. It was enough to make her burst into tears, which she did quite often. She would go on wondering why she continued pushing herself if all she found was disappointment, but then she would spot another hill and her hopes would rise again as if they had forgotten the sadness of the previous shattered hopes.

She hated being separated from him for so long. She didn't even know for sure that he cared about her the same way she cared about him, and yet she tirelessly searched for him. She might not ever find him again; she could have lost him forever and not even know it. Even so, she kept on searching. She would look for him even if it took the rest of her life. She had to tell him that she loved him, no matter what his response to the declaration would be. It would hurt to be rejected, but it would hurt more to let him go without him knowing. That was the reason she found for continuing, for pressing on long after her body and spirit had given up. Her love for him kept her going and would sustain her until they met again. The earth never seemed so big to her before. It stretched out far in wide in every direction.

The distance may seem long, the journey may seem hard, the pain may seem great, but I will endure it all if only to be with you again.