Good Fortune
Author’s
Note: This
is for Lucinda the Maid as her CHASMS Secret MiroSanta gift-fic. Merry
Christmas, dear, and Happy Holidays to everyone else who reads this. I will be
working on my other fanfics over the next few weeks, so hopefully you’ll
see a few more updates from me. Anywho, enjoy!
-
Sango
discreetly hid a yawn as she walked through the mansion, shoji screens to her
left and the breaking dawn to her right. She and her group of friends had been
offered a stay for the night by the lord here, as they had successfully
exterminated a particularly annoying demon that had been buzzing around for
weeks, leaving behind very costly damage both to the town and this mansion. It
hadn’t been the easiest youkai to get rid of; however, once Inuyasha had
jumped in with Tessaiga, the battle had been over. The townspeople had been
overjoyed and, with just a little prompting from Houshi-sama, the lord himself
had invited them into his household.
It had been a
very comfortable stay and much needed, with the amount of difficulty they had
been faced with recently. Sleeping on proper bedding was definitely something
that, after all of this traveling, she would never take for granted in her
life. That, and the no-doubt extravagant breakfast she was heading towards at
this very moment. (After all, sometimes the food they could carry with them and
the food Kagome brought from her own time did get old after a while.)
Without much
difficulty, Sango found the room that she had eaten dinner in the night before
and slid aside the screen lightly. Their host was already present with his wife
and two daughters, as were Kagome, Inuyasha and Shippou. Houshi-sama was
nowhere to be seen.
“Good
morning, Sango!” Shippou chirped as she entered the room, closing the
shoji behind her. Breakfast had not yet been served. She returned the greeting
and took her place beside Kagome with a polite nod to their hosts. No sooner
had she taken her seat did the screen open again and Miroku walked in. The monk
bowed politely to their hosts.
“Tanaka-dono,
for the safety of your household, I have placed seals around the perimeter of
your household. That should deter any further attacks on your home for at least
a year, maybe two, though after that period I suggest you enlist another monk
or priest to refresh the spells, as they can wear out after some time.”
The wife of
the lord seemed rather relieved by this proclamation, though Tanaka himself did
not. He seemed the sort of man who did not particularly put his faith in
spiritual ability, or was too tight-fisted with his money and goods to
particularly care for the cost of the benefits of protection until it was too
late. It was a foolish outlook on things, particularly in a time when demons
were running rampant, causing destruction whenever they could. Even so, he
managed to thank Miroku properly and the monk settled across from Sango
benignly.
This seemed to
be a cue for the lord’s servants, because they entered with the food
then, serving it to each person with a flourish. Taking a moment to thank their
host before starting, they all dug in and fell into relative silence. All,
Sango noticed, save for the lord’s two daughters.
The younger of
the pair was on the ledge between childhood and growing up, perhaps eleven or
twelve years of age, while the elder was easily Sango’s peer. They were
whispering back and forth heatedly as they ate, sending furtive looks towards
the seemingly oblivious Miroku. Sango’s eyes narrowed imperceptibly. What
were they up to? As she watched, the older girl leaned towards her mother and
murmured something in her ear. The older woman cast a bemused look at her
daughters, before speaking in a hushed tone to her husband.
The lord
looked particularly disgruntled to hear whatever had been said, and there were
a few moments of indecipherable arguing. Sango chanced a glance towards her
friends and caught Kagome’s eye. The other girl grinned and shrugged,
equally befuddled. A look at Inuyasha revealed the way his ears were tilted
towards the discreet conversation even as he shoveled food into his mouth
ridiculously. He didn’t seem particularly bothered, but that may have
been due to the fact most of his concentration was focused on the meal in front
of him.
With the
clearing of his throat, the old lord drew attention back to himself. He had a
pinched expression on his face, as if he could hardly believe what he was about
to say. “Houshi-sama, is it true that most monks are trained in some sort
of fortune telling?”
Miroku’s
eyebrow quirked upwards, but he set aside his chopsticks and smiled politely.
“Usually, yes. I myself have some knowledge of palmistry.”
“I
see...” His frown grew particularly more pronounced. “Perhaps then
you would be willing to tell the fortunes of my daughters. They
seem...interested...in what may lie ahead for them.” It was more than
obvious that he thought very little of this interest of theirs, but if Miroku
noticed, he made no sign of it. His face was set in a polite, unflappable
smile, and he seemed almost businesslike, save for the way Sango caught his
eyes straying towards the older girl, who was rather pretty.
“It
would be an honor to be of service to your lovely family,” Miroku said,
all seriousness save for the almost imperceptible glint in his eye.
Sango’s
eyebrow twitched. It figured.
Yet, the two
girls burst into giggles, and the lord looked mildly appeased by the
compliments, enough so that he gave his daughters a permissive nod. They were
by the monk’s side in a blink of the eye, palms held out expectantly as
if they expected their father to withdraw his consent at any moment.
For his part,
Miroku wasted no time in getting started. “Ah, I can already tell that
fate smiles on you...”
Sango resisted
the urge to glare at him in disgust, instead shooting him a sharp look out of
the corner of her eyes. The monk didn’t seem to notice and continued to
prattle on about how the elder girl would undoubtedly be bearing many sons to
her future husband. In all likelihood, he was probably lying through his teeth
about it too, and he didn’t really know the difference between a line on
the girl’s palm and her thumb.
Sighing, she
set aside her food and excused herself. Though it was rather tempting to stay
and make sure her fiancé did not flirt his way into trouble, she doubted
he would be stupid enough to do anything under the watchful of his Lordship the
Strict. Besides, Inuyasha, Kagome and Shippou were there, and it was her turn
to make sure all of their supplies were prepared for departure. So with one
last deadly glance Miroku’s way, Sango rose to her feet and exited the
way she had come.
She
didn’t notice the curious eyes that followed her as she left.
-
Putting
everything away had been easier than Sango had expected. Then again, this was
their first stop since setting back out from Kaede’s village, so there
had not been much chance for everything to get unpacked or disorderly. She was
nearly through with reorganizing her own things and taking stock of her
extermination tools when the sound of approaching footsteps reached her ears,
followed by a soft tap on the screen.
“Come
in,” she called, not bothering to glance over her shoulder as she tucked
a tightly sealed jar of powdered poison into her bag. The door slid open
softly.
“I came
to see whether or not you needed any help.”
Sango looked
up, trying to push down the instantaneous spark of annoyance that had suddenly
flickered through her, but it managed to worm its way into her voice.
“No. I’m nearly finished, Houshi-sama.”
Miroku smiled
patiently at her. “I am no expert at the reading of minds, Sango, but
somehow I feel that you are less than pleased with me for some reason. Sure my
offer to lend a hand has nothing to do with this?”
“You
know,” she began, turning her attention fully away from her previous
task, “for every hand you offer me with good intentions, there’s
another I have to ward off from your bad ones.”
“Such a
negative statement,” he admonished, his stormy blue eyes twinkling
mischievously. “But you didn’t answer my question. Are you upset
with me?”
Sango looked
away, beginning to feel slightly embarrassed from the way he stared at her so
intently. There was always something about the way the monk looked at her that
got her flustered. Perhaps it was the unique color and intensity of his gaze,
or how when his eyes were on her, it was as though his attention was focused
solely on her and nothing else. Whatever it was, though, it sent her thoughts
scattering every time and brought a heat to her cheeks that had become all too
familiar since Sango had met him.
Regardless of
that, however, Sango did know one thing. There was no way she was going to
answer that question directly.
“Do you
actually know how to tell someone’s fortune by looking at their
hands?”
There was a
rustle of cloth as Miroku sat down beside her. He sounded amused when he
answered. “I suppose I do. At least, I know the methods by which I am
supposed to be able to tell.” Something seemed to occur to him then.
“Sango, are you annoyed that I read the palms of those girls?”
Sango huffed
and went back to reorganizing her bag with an air of pointed determination.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Houshi-sama.”
Miroku
chuckled and reached out, his fingers grazing Sango’s wrist before
drawing her hand into his and effectively interrupting her work. “Perhaps
Sango would like me to tell her fortune for her?”
There was no
hiding the blush that lit up her face. “That’s not
necessary.”
“But I
want to,” the monk told her, giving her a wry look. “Come on,
I’ll even make a lesson out of it.”
“And why
would I need to know how to tell fortunes?” Sango asked dryly. “I
hardly have any desire to use it to flirt with pretty village girls, you
know.”
“Indeed,”
Miroku sighed in pathetic disappointment. “Ouch! No pinching! Anyway, it
would make for something to talk about while I looked at your lovely
hands.”
Sango hesitated
a moment longer before nodding in defeat. “If you insist.”
“I
do,” he informed her cheerfully, tugging her closer gently. She went with
his movements, drawing closer so that he could examine her hand comfortably.
They sat facing each other, Sango kneeling and Miroku in his customary
cross-legged position, their knees nearly brushing. He traced a finger across
her skin, following the different lines that crossed her palm before beginning
to speak softly. “It is typically considered traditional to read a
woman’s right hand, and a man’s left, though there are some that
look at both palms when evaluating someone’s fortune. Generally, most
agree that this tradition comes from the continent, as it was from there that
“Why is
that?” Sango inquired as she watched the monk stroke his fingers over
hers. He certainly didn’t seem to be paying that much attention to
her hand otherwise...
Miroku
shrugged in response. “I’m fairly certain that most scholars prefer
not to admit that their work was borrowed from elsewhere.”
“I
see.” She tilted her head at him, eyes narrowing as she noticed
something. “So, are you actually going to read my fortune or are you just
trying to sneak that other hand of yours towards my bottom, Houshi-sama?”
The potentially offensive appendage hastily withdrew.
“I
don’t know what you’re talking about, Sango. I am merely trying to
explain the important details of this particular art to you,” the monk
said, winking playfully. “Besides, I was getting to that part. You see
this line?” He ran his index finger in a downward curve across her palm,
following the line that ran from above her thumb to the base of her wrist.
Unlike his previous touches, this one was purposeful. “This is the Line
of Earth, and it measures your vitality, the span of your life.”
After that,
Miroku’s finger moved upwards, finding the crease that went from midway
between her index finger and her thumb and continued across the middle of her
palm. “This is Line of Man, which concerns your intellect and reason.
Finally, there is the Line of Heaven.” This time he traced the highest
line that traveled from the outside of her hand in towards the beginning point
of the others. “It is related to your place in the world and your status.
It is also said to measure love.”
It figured he
would say something like that so nonchalantly. “It seems rather
complicated,” she said, trying her best to sound unaffected.
“Yes,
but it gets easier the more you do it, and it requires some memorization to
remember all of the details,” he admitted. “For example, there are
also the fingers to look at when palm-reading.”
Sango pursed
her lips. “You mean to say that there is more?”
“You
make it sound as if it is torture to let me hold your hand, Sango,”
Miroku chided, provoking another blush from her.
“No,
it’s nothing like that,” she murmured. “Continue.”
“Where
was I?” He returned his attention to her hand, staring at it intently for
a few moments. “Ah, yes. The fingers are also important when analyzing a
person’s fortune. Each finger represents a different aspect of
one’s life.”
“Such
as?” Sango prompted.
“Well,
going in order, the thumb stands for your parents, the index for any older
siblings and your extended family. Next, the middle finger represents
you—”
“Oh?”
she interjected, sounding bemused. “What does my finger tell you about
me?”
Miroku
shifted, his knee touching hers briefly, and sighed heavily. “Only that
you like to interrupt. I’m getting to that part in a second anyway. As I
was saying,” he continued, raising his eyes to look at her, “the
next finger represents your younger siblings.”
Sango was
suddenly acutely aware of the way he was watching her. It wasn’t like his
other glances, the ones that made her flustered or caused her heart to skip a
beat. Rather, it was an acknowledgement of the fact a mention of Kohaku was
potentially unsettling to her, and he was waiting for a sign from her that it
was okay to continue. They both knew that it was not necessary, but the
sentiment was touching nevertheless.
“And
what about the next finger?” Sango inquired, a small smile slipping its
way onto her lips like a silent thank you. He returned it easily. As
long as you are okay.
“The
next is definitely my favorite,” Miroku said matter-of-factly, tapping
his fingertip against the smallest of hers with a saucy wink. “You see,
this finger represents marriage, and more importantly, one’s
children.”
“No
wonder it’s your favorite,” the taijiya commented wryly, eliciting
a laugh from her companion.
“Forgive
me for my predictability. Perhaps I should tell you your fortune now. Would
that make for an appropriate apology?”
Sango raised
an eyebrow coyly. “I suppose it could be a start.”
Miroku
squeezed her fingers once before releasing it. He leaned back, resting his
weight on his own hands comfortably. “To be honest, you have a horrible
fortune.”
She blinked in
surprise and lifted her palm to eye-level, examining it curiously.
“Horrible? How is it horrible?”
“For
one, in my reading, I saw that you were strong-willed, stubborn, pretty, and an
excellent fighter who is destined to tempt any poor, nearby monk with your
beautiful...” He cleared his throat, pointedly ignoring the warning look
she gave him. “...face. Also, you’re going to have a long, happy
life and ten, maybe even twenty, children.”
Sango shook
her head in mock disgust. “That only sounds terrible if my children turn
out to be anything like their father.”
“What’s
that supposed to mean?” Miroku demanded, sitting up a bit straighter. His
expression was almost comical as he tried to appear innocent, as if that were
going to convince Sango that he had just been declared a saint or something equally
silly.
“Exactly
what it sounds like,” Sango countered with a giggle, turning to put away
the last few loose items that were scattered around. This was fun and they
didn’t have nearly enough of it together, which made times like these so
much more sweet. “So, is there anything else I need to know about related
to my fortune? Because it sounds to me that you just told me everything you
thought I might like to hear without actually deciphering my hand...or is that
the trick?”
He clapped a
hand over his heart dramatically. “Sango, you wound me! Do you truly
think I would trick anyone like that?”
“Let me
think...” Sango rubbed her chin as though she were thinking. “Yes,
Houshi-sama, I very much think that you would.” He laughed at her
conviction and they lapsed into comfortable silence as Sango tidied up their
pile of supplies. Finally, she let out a sigh and leaned back on her heels.
“Is
something the matter, Sango?” Miroku inquired, noting the way she had
caught her lower lip between her teeth—it was kind of cute, but he chose
to keep that observation to himself.
“Hm? No.
I was just wondering...” She paused, trying to formulate what she wanted
to say. “Have you ever had your fortune told, Houshi-sama?”
“No,”
he replied honestly. “Not once.”
Sango tilted
her head to the side, her long hair spilling over her shoulder. “Why
not?”
The monk
seemed to weigh the question in his mind, his cursed hand fisting
surreptitiously beneath his sleeve before he shifted and stood with a grunt. He
paced over to her and held out his hand, an offer to help her to her own feet.
Sango took it without hesitation and she found herself looking Miroku in the
eye.
“You
know, I’m surprised you have to ask. Personally, I already know my
future,” he murmured softly. Stunned, Sango watched as he lifted her hand
in his and brought it to his lip, placing a warm kiss just above her knuckles.
“After all, Sango, it’s the same future as yours.”
She could have
sworn at that moment that her heart fluttered in her chest.
“Houshi-sama...”
she whispered, only to have the words stop in her mouth. “Houshi-sama,
where is that other hand of yours at?”
He coughed
nervously, and the warm hand on Sango’s bottom quickly disappeared.
“I do apologize, Sango, but sometimes I just can’t help but admire
your...” He trailed off in surprise as he watched his fiancée
burst into fits of laughter. “Sango?”
Sango shook
her head, speechless due to the giggles that were spilling out of her. Before
long, the laughter proved itself contagious, and Miroku found himself joining
in with her and that’s how their friends found them a few minutes later.
At that
moment, Sango knew that if she had a good fortune at all, it was because of
this man in front of her. As lecherous and carefree as Miroku was sometimes,
when all was said and done, there was no one better that she could picture a
life with. (Besides those ten or twenty children she had promised him, of
course.) Even though at times he was bound to drive her mad with his antics,
Sango was certain of one thing: it was worth it.
There was
nothing that would ever convince her otherwise.