Things could have been different if only Naraku hadn’t attacked a priest fifty years ago. But alas, it was no good to dwell on “if onlys”; it didn’t change anything, it didn’t help anything. All it did was to sink him further into despair. His future was definite: it loomed up before him like a terrifying monster, reaching out its cold hands to claim him. The hours and days he spent only prolonged the inevitable, and only drew those cold hands closer. There was no use lying to him about what was to happen, so he was given the truth. There were times he wished that he could stop everything, to prevent it, but there was only one cure and he hadn’t the strength to get it.
When he was a small boy he had watched his father die. The incident had disturbed him so greatly that for a long time he spoke to no one, reliving the horror over and over in his dreams. Even now, his ears rang with the painful shrieks his father had uttered as his body was destroyed by the curse. He often thought of it at night: the nightmares plagued him still, many years after his father had died. Sometimes, when his friends were asleep, he would sit awake at night weeping over the fate he could not run from and could not forget.
He laid on his back and stared thoughtfully at his right hand. That hand had caused him so much anguish and sorrow in his life, and yet at the same time it was a great help in battle. A curse and a blessing all in one... just like the Shikkon Jewel, he thought. The jewel also had the power to invoke good and evil; it brought sorrow to everyone it came near, just as his curse brought sorrow to him. He stood up and walked a distance away from his friends, his eyes still fixed on his right hand. He needed some time alone to think, and when the tears came he did not want to chance his friends waking up and seeing him. Once he felt he was safely away from them, he sank in the cool grass and allowed the tears to come. This was the full torture of the curse: it gave the bearer constant grief and sorrow while they lived, and it ushered in a premature and painful death. Such was his fate, his nightmare, and no matter how happy he seemed on the outside, inside he had fallen into deep depression.
Before he had met Kagome and the others, the prospect of death hadn’t been so painful to him. Now he had friends, and sometimes he couldn’t even look at them, knowing that he would have to leave them some day. They knew of the curse he bore, but they were unaware of the sorrow he locked away in his heart. His whole body shook with sobs and he was finding it hard to breathe. Suicide had been an option he dwelled on in his most hopeless moments, and he considered that path now. It would certainly save him and his friends the pain and grief that would come, but there was the faintest hope that he could indeed cure himself. The hope grew dimmer as the days wore on. He could actually see his life slipping slowly away from him like sand through his fingers, and nothing he could do would stop it.
“Miroku?” He gasped and hurriedly wiped a sleeve across his eyes. Sango had come up behind him without a sound, and now she stood there with her beautiful face etched in concern. “Are you all right? It sounded like an animal was dying or something.” The mention of death sunk his heart, but outwardly he smiled at the Demon Slayer. She heard me crying, he realized. As much as he enjoyed looking at her, he turned his face away so she wouldn’t see the tearstains.
“I’m fine,” he lied. “I just needed to be alone for a while.” Sango quietly sat down next to him and placed her hand on his right arm. He instinctively pulled away.
“I thought so,” she said. “I saw you staring at your hand again. Has the Wind Tunnel grown larger?” He didn’t trust himself to reply. He hadn’t the spirit to do his usual groping and flirting, so he just sat quietly and hoped she would soon leave him. “It has, hasn’t it? Don’t worry, Miroku. We will defeat Naraku and it will close up; you’ll have your life back.” The tender way she spoke those words surprised him. He turned to her and saw she was smiling at him, her eyes gazing at him in a way they had never done before. “You can’t give up,” she continued. “We’ll all be with you until the end. I’ll be with you.” She stroked his cheek with her fingers, then stood up and went back to camp.
Miroku watched her go, his heart pattering in his chest. What in the world was that all about? he wondered. She had never spoken to him like that before, or looked at him that way, or touched him that gently. He pressed his hand to the spot where she touched him. Could it be that she...? No, he didn’t dare hope for that. Even if she did, it wouldn’t make things easier for him; it would only make the pain he bore grow worse. He stared at his right hand and could feel a new storm of sorrow brewing inside him. He truly cared for Sango, and not just because of her body. Simply being near her was enough for him, and hearing her voice was like listening to music. How careless of me to allow these feelings to grow, he thought. This must end. I can’t bear doing this any longer; I’m only hurting my friends. I must leave at once. He stood up and quietly went back to camp.
When he returned, Sango was missing. This disappointed him, for he had wanted to see her one last time before he left. He picked up what possessions he owned and gazed down at his sleeping friends. As he stared he realized he was going to miss them very much. It’s for the best, he decided. Inuyasha would probably be happy to see him go; Kagome and Shippo would be distressed. They’ll come looking for me. I must be careful to leave no scent for Inuyasha to follow. He put his hand over the rings on his staff so they wouldn’t jingle as he turned and walked away into the night. As he got further from Sango, it felt like a part of his heart was being torn away, but he did not look back.
After she left Miroku, Sango had to take a moment alone herself. She stood gazing up at the stars, her hand pressed to her chest to keep her heart from leaping out. Miroku’s cheek had felt wet when she touched it, and when she brought her fingers to her nose she could smell tears. He was crying. Was it because of the Wind Tunnel? She knew that the Wind Tunnel was always on Miroku’s mind, but she never suspected it gave him so much sorrow. She had woken up and saw him staring at his right hand. She watched him do this for a long time before he arose. She continued to stare in his direction, and soon she heard something that to her sounded like an animal dying. Now she realized that the sound had been Miroku weeping. Was there that much pain, anguish, and sorrow in his heart? She had been drawn to him, drawn to comfort him and assure him everything would be all right. Her last words to him echoed in her mind: We’ll all be with you until the end. I’ll be with you.
She shook her head, trying to rid her cheeks of the burning flush. Certainly Miroku was handsome, wise, and kind, but he was still a lecher. But even as she thought that, she remembered how jealous she had been whenever Miroku would have his eyes on another woman. When his wandering eyes came to her, she was frustrated that he was looking at her breasts and not her face. He had almost kissed her once; it embarrassed her how clearly she remembered it. She tried to imagine what it would have felt like if he had kissed her: how his warm lips would feel on hers, their bodies pressed together and sharing each others’ body heat... Whoa, what the...? Now I’m starting to have perverted thoughts! But she couldn’t deny the thought had excited her, and made her blush deeper. The image had been so clear it almost felt real. She couldn’t be feeling what she thought she was. She was just tired, that was all. She returned to camp and found Miroku had still not returned. This discovery made her feel sad and alone; she crawled back into her warm sheets and stared at the spot he would have occupied had he been there.
“Miroku...,” she whispered, the word spoken with sadness and longing. She wanted to stay awake until he returned, but her eyelids refused and she drifted off to sleep.
Someone was shaking her awake. She was deeply immersed in an embarrassing but enjoyable dream about Miroku. As her time with him grew, these dreams had become more frequent. She heard her name being called and for a moment she thought it was Miroku. Her heart fluttered and she pulled herself awake. She was disappointed to discover she had only imagined the voice being Miroku’s: it had been Shippo saying her name. She yawned and stretched out her limbs, scratching Kilala behind the ears.
“Good morning,” she greeted pleasantly. Her eyes searched for Miroku but could not find him. His staff was gone, along with all of his belongings. Seeing his things gone made her feel like she had just been thrown forcibly to the ground. “Where’s Miroku?” she asked weakly.
“I don’t know,” confessed Kagome, wringing her hands worriedly. “He was gone when we woke up.”
“Gone?” echoed Sango in horror. “But... he never said a word to us.” Her mind raced as she tried to think of where Miroku may have gone, but nothing came to her. His absence made her feel empty inside and her heart felt torn in half. Could it have been because of the Wind Tunnel? she wondered.
“I can’t pick up his scent, either,” noted Inuyasha. He growled angrily. “Man, I hate it when that stupid monk goes off on his own. It pisses me off!”
“Be quiet, Inuyasha!” snapped Sango. “You have no idea what Miroku’s going through, so just leave him alone!” Her friends gaped at her in surprise. She blushed and turned away from their questioning eyes.
“What’s wrong, Sango?” asked Kagome.
“Nothing,” answered the Demon Slayer. “I... I’m just... tired, I guess.” She didn’t want her friends to know how worried she was about Miroku, and how hurt she was that he had left without even saying good-bye.
“We gotta find him!” insisted Shippo. “Naraku may try and kill him again!”
“Shippo, don’t even think of such a thing!” shouted Sango; she didn’t care that her actions caught her friends by surprise. She was far too upset about Miroku’s absence to care what they thought. The prospect of Miroku dying had always been a problem for her, though until recently she hadn’t admitted to herself the reason. Now that Miroku was alone and vulnerable, she feared for his safety. He can’t use his Wind Tunnel because of Naraku’s insects. Oh, Miroku. Why did you have to go off on your own? Inuyasha was crawling on the ground, smelling the grass in hopes of picking up Miroku’s scent.
“I can smell him here, but this is where he was last night.” He crawled a few more feet. “Here I smell tears. Oh, yuck!”
“What is it?” asked Kagome, joining him. Inuyasha held up an onion, pinching his nose so he wouldn’t have to smell it. Kagome stuck out her tongue in disgust. Sango and Shippo joined them as well. Sango saw the onion and immediately realized that Miroku had purposefully made it so they couldn’t track him. He doesn’t want to be found... but why? Tears formed in her eyes, and it wasn’t because of the onion.
“I can’t pick up anything else with this around,” said Inuyasha, chucking the onion away. The air was still heavy with its smell, so he was forced to keep his nose covered. “Damn that Miroku! What’s he think he’s doing, going off and leaving us like that? He obviously didn’t want us following him; what’s that guy up to?”
“Maybe he’s just gone for a little while,” suggested Shippo hopefully. Sango desperately wanted to believe that, but she knew it just wasn’t true. Miroku had left them, left her, and he had no intention of returning. She closed her eyes and forced the tears not to fall.
“What are we going to do?” mused Kagome. “We can’t just abandon him.”
“Hey, he’s the one that abandoned us!” shouted Inuyasha. “If he wants to go off, I say let him!” Sango turned to him and slapped him as hard as she could.
“How dare you say that!” she screamed. The tears came now, but she paid them no mind. “Don’t you get it? Miroku could die out there! We’ve got to find him!”
“Sango...” Kagome reached out a gentle hand, but Sango backed away.
“I’m sorry, I.... I have to go now.” She turned and ran off with tears blinding her vision. Kilala scurried to follow her, but a firm command of, “No, Kilala! You stay!” stopped her.
“Sango! Hey, come back here!” ordered Inuyasha. He started to run after her.
“Sit!”
KER-PLOP!
“What’d you do that for, Kagome?” asked Shippo.
“I think it would be better if we leave her alone for a while,” she replied. She watched Sango disappear from view. “You see, I know what it’s like to be abandoned by someone I love, so I understand what she’s going through.” Inuyasha had been giving her an inquisitive stare when she said this; she blushed and turned away.
“When were you ever abandoned?” wondered Shippo in naive curiosity.
“Never mind. It’s not important; forget I said it.”
“Kagome...” Inuyasha’s eyes were full of concern.
“Hey, I said it wasn’t important. We need to leave them alone for a while and keep looking for jewel shards.” She mounted her bike and pedaled off. Inuyasha and Shippo exchanged confused looks, and followed.
Sango couldn’t see where she was going. The tears streamed down her cheeks, blurring her vision. Her legs continued to pound on the ground, putting as much distance between herself and her friends as she could. Don’t follow me, she prayed. She ran and ran, then her foot snagged on a rock and she tumbled to the ground. She pushed herself into a sitting position but didn’t try to get back on her feet. She sat there in the grass, ignoring the pain her fall had inflicted. The pain in her heart was so great that nothing else fazed her. She hugged herself, rocking back and forth and weeping bitterly. It was now her that sounded like a dying animal, her that cried out in anguish. The world was cold and indifferent to her suffering; it offered her no comfort. She wept and wept, so grieved that she didn’t even care if a demon attacked her.
Perhaps what brought her the most pain was how Miroku would never know that his absence had given her so much grief. Sango felt like she was being ripped apart from the inside and her heart thrown into a pit of angry demons. She felt empty, alone, abandoned, frightened, despairing, hopeless, unwanted, unloved, and Miroku would never know. She had gotten used to seeing his face every day; gotten used to his voice; was used to his eyes staring at her lecherously; grew to enjoy his company; and had even grown accustomed, though far from tolerant, to his hands groping her. She wished he had been interested in more than just her body, but now that he was gone she decided she wouldn’t mind it so much. She had been too stubborn to admit to herself she was falling in love with the amorous monk and now it was too late for her to tell him. He would never know now how she felt, and that made her pain even worse.
At last she couldn’t seem to cry any longer, and got up using her boomerang to help her to her feet. She walked for a few minutes in a daze. She was emotionally and physically drained and her feet seemed to be moving of their own accord. The world loomed in around her like a bird of prey, threatening and unfriendly. She was all alone for the second time in her life. A new wave of sorrow crashed down upon her and she collapsed to her knees again. Her weapon fell down at her side. She thought she had used all of her tears, but more came, stinging her eyes and cheeks. She curled up in a little ball and wept. All she could think about was Miroku, and how desperately she wished to see him again. He was gone from her life, possibly forever. She let out a piteous moan as she thought this, and laid in the grass drowning in her own sorrow.
When he was a small boy he had watched his father die. The incident had disturbed him so greatly that for a long time he spoke to no one, reliving the horror over and over in his dreams. Even now, his ears rang with the painful shrieks his father had uttered as his body was destroyed by the curse. He often thought of it at night: the nightmares plagued him still, many years after his father had died. Sometimes, when his friends were asleep, he would sit awake at night weeping over the fate he could not run from and could not forget.
He laid on his back and stared thoughtfully at his right hand. That hand had caused him so much anguish and sorrow in his life, and yet at the same time it was a great help in battle. A curse and a blessing all in one... just like the Shikkon Jewel, he thought. The jewel also had the power to invoke good and evil; it brought sorrow to everyone it came near, just as his curse brought sorrow to him. He stood up and walked a distance away from his friends, his eyes still fixed on his right hand. He needed some time alone to think, and when the tears came he did not want to chance his friends waking up and seeing him. Once he felt he was safely away from them, he sank in the cool grass and allowed the tears to come. This was the full torture of the curse: it gave the bearer constant grief and sorrow while they lived, and it ushered in a premature and painful death. Such was his fate, his nightmare, and no matter how happy he seemed on the outside, inside he had fallen into deep depression.
Before he had met Kagome and the others, the prospect of death hadn’t been so painful to him. Now he had friends, and sometimes he couldn’t even look at them, knowing that he would have to leave them some day. They knew of the curse he bore, but they were unaware of the sorrow he locked away in his heart. His whole body shook with sobs and he was finding it hard to breathe. Suicide had been an option he dwelled on in his most hopeless moments, and he considered that path now. It would certainly save him and his friends the pain and grief that would come, but there was the faintest hope that he could indeed cure himself. The hope grew dimmer as the days wore on. He could actually see his life slipping slowly away from him like sand through his fingers, and nothing he could do would stop it.
“Miroku?” He gasped and hurriedly wiped a sleeve across his eyes. Sango had come up behind him without a sound, and now she stood there with her beautiful face etched in concern. “Are you all right? It sounded like an animal was dying or something.” The mention of death sunk his heart, but outwardly he smiled at the Demon Slayer. She heard me crying, he realized. As much as he enjoyed looking at her, he turned his face away so she wouldn’t see the tearstains.
“I’m fine,” he lied. “I just needed to be alone for a while.” Sango quietly sat down next to him and placed her hand on his right arm. He instinctively pulled away.
“I thought so,” she said. “I saw you staring at your hand again. Has the Wind Tunnel grown larger?” He didn’t trust himself to reply. He hadn’t the spirit to do his usual groping and flirting, so he just sat quietly and hoped she would soon leave him. “It has, hasn’t it? Don’t worry, Miroku. We will defeat Naraku and it will close up; you’ll have your life back.” The tender way she spoke those words surprised him. He turned to her and saw she was smiling at him, her eyes gazing at him in a way they had never done before. “You can’t give up,” she continued. “We’ll all be with you until the end. I’ll be with you.” She stroked his cheek with her fingers, then stood up and went back to camp.
Miroku watched her go, his heart pattering in his chest. What in the world was that all about? he wondered. She had never spoken to him like that before, or looked at him that way, or touched him that gently. He pressed his hand to the spot where she touched him. Could it be that she...? No, he didn’t dare hope for that. Even if she did, it wouldn’t make things easier for him; it would only make the pain he bore grow worse. He stared at his right hand and could feel a new storm of sorrow brewing inside him. He truly cared for Sango, and not just because of her body. Simply being near her was enough for him, and hearing her voice was like listening to music. How careless of me to allow these feelings to grow, he thought. This must end. I can’t bear doing this any longer; I’m only hurting my friends. I must leave at once. He stood up and quietly went back to camp.
When he returned, Sango was missing. This disappointed him, for he had wanted to see her one last time before he left. He picked up what possessions he owned and gazed down at his sleeping friends. As he stared he realized he was going to miss them very much. It’s for the best, he decided. Inuyasha would probably be happy to see him go; Kagome and Shippo would be distressed. They’ll come looking for me. I must be careful to leave no scent for Inuyasha to follow. He put his hand over the rings on his staff so they wouldn’t jingle as he turned and walked away into the night. As he got further from Sango, it felt like a part of his heart was being torn away, but he did not look back.
After she left Miroku, Sango had to take a moment alone herself. She stood gazing up at the stars, her hand pressed to her chest to keep her heart from leaping out. Miroku’s cheek had felt wet when she touched it, and when she brought her fingers to her nose she could smell tears. He was crying. Was it because of the Wind Tunnel? She knew that the Wind Tunnel was always on Miroku’s mind, but she never suspected it gave him so much sorrow. She had woken up and saw him staring at his right hand. She watched him do this for a long time before he arose. She continued to stare in his direction, and soon she heard something that to her sounded like an animal dying. Now she realized that the sound had been Miroku weeping. Was there that much pain, anguish, and sorrow in his heart? She had been drawn to him, drawn to comfort him and assure him everything would be all right. Her last words to him echoed in her mind: We’ll all be with you until the end. I’ll be with you.
She shook her head, trying to rid her cheeks of the burning flush. Certainly Miroku was handsome, wise, and kind, but he was still a lecher. But even as she thought that, she remembered how jealous she had been whenever Miroku would have his eyes on another woman. When his wandering eyes came to her, she was frustrated that he was looking at her breasts and not her face. He had almost kissed her once; it embarrassed her how clearly she remembered it. She tried to imagine what it would have felt like if he had kissed her: how his warm lips would feel on hers, their bodies pressed together and sharing each others’ body heat... Whoa, what the...? Now I’m starting to have perverted thoughts! But she couldn’t deny the thought had excited her, and made her blush deeper. The image had been so clear it almost felt real. She couldn’t be feeling what she thought she was. She was just tired, that was all. She returned to camp and found Miroku had still not returned. This discovery made her feel sad and alone; she crawled back into her warm sheets and stared at the spot he would have occupied had he been there.
“Miroku...,” she whispered, the word spoken with sadness and longing. She wanted to stay awake until he returned, but her eyelids refused and she drifted off to sleep.
Someone was shaking her awake. She was deeply immersed in an embarrassing but enjoyable dream about Miroku. As her time with him grew, these dreams had become more frequent. She heard her name being called and for a moment she thought it was Miroku. Her heart fluttered and she pulled herself awake. She was disappointed to discover she had only imagined the voice being Miroku’s: it had been Shippo saying her name. She yawned and stretched out her limbs, scratching Kilala behind the ears.
“Good morning,” she greeted pleasantly. Her eyes searched for Miroku but could not find him. His staff was gone, along with all of his belongings. Seeing his things gone made her feel like she had just been thrown forcibly to the ground. “Where’s Miroku?” she asked weakly.
“I don’t know,” confessed Kagome, wringing her hands worriedly. “He was gone when we woke up.”
“Gone?” echoed Sango in horror. “But... he never said a word to us.” Her mind raced as she tried to think of where Miroku may have gone, but nothing came to her. His absence made her feel empty inside and her heart felt torn in half. Could it have been because of the Wind Tunnel? she wondered.
“I can’t pick up his scent, either,” noted Inuyasha. He growled angrily. “Man, I hate it when that stupid monk goes off on his own. It pisses me off!”
“Be quiet, Inuyasha!” snapped Sango. “You have no idea what Miroku’s going through, so just leave him alone!” Her friends gaped at her in surprise. She blushed and turned away from their questioning eyes.
“What’s wrong, Sango?” asked Kagome.
“Nothing,” answered the Demon Slayer. “I... I’m just... tired, I guess.” She didn’t want her friends to know how worried she was about Miroku, and how hurt she was that he had left without even saying good-bye.
“We gotta find him!” insisted Shippo. “Naraku may try and kill him again!”
“Shippo, don’t even think of such a thing!” shouted Sango; she didn’t care that her actions caught her friends by surprise. She was far too upset about Miroku’s absence to care what they thought. The prospect of Miroku dying had always been a problem for her, though until recently she hadn’t admitted to herself the reason. Now that Miroku was alone and vulnerable, she feared for his safety. He can’t use his Wind Tunnel because of Naraku’s insects. Oh, Miroku. Why did you have to go off on your own? Inuyasha was crawling on the ground, smelling the grass in hopes of picking up Miroku’s scent.
“I can smell him here, but this is where he was last night.” He crawled a few more feet. “Here I smell tears. Oh, yuck!”
“What is it?” asked Kagome, joining him. Inuyasha held up an onion, pinching his nose so he wouldn’t have to smell it. Kagome stuck out her tongue in disgust. Sango and Shippo joined them as well. Sango saw the onion and immediately realized that Miroku had purposefully made it so they couldn’t track him. He doesn’t want to be found... but why? Tears formed in her eyes, and it wasn’t because of the onion.
“I can’t pick up anything else with this around,” said Inuyasha, chucking the onion away. The air was still heavy with its smell, so he was forced to keep his nose covered. “Damn that Miroku! What’s he think he’s doing, going off and leaving us like that? He obviously didn’t want us following him; what’s that guy up to?”
“Maybe he’s just gone for a little while,” suggested Shippo hopefully. Sango desperately wanted to believe that, but she knew it just wasn’t true. Miroku had left them, left her, and he had no intention of returning. She closed her eyes and forced the tears not to fall.
“What are we going to do?” mused Kagome. “We can’t just abandon him.”
“Hey, he’s the one that abandoned us!” shouted Inuyasha. “If he wants to go off, I say let him!” Sango turned to him and slapped him as hard as she could.
“How dare you say that!” she screamed. The tears came now, but she paid them no mind. “Don’t you get it? Miroku could die out there! We’ve got to find him!”
“Sango...” Kagome reached out a gentle hand, but Sango backed away.
“I’m sorry, I.... I have to go now.” She turned and ran off with tears blinding her vision. Kilala scurried to follow her, but a firm command of, “No, Kilala! You stay!” stopped her.
“Sango! Hey, come back here!” ordered Inuyasha. He started to run after her.
“Sit!”
KER-PLOP!
“What’d you do that for, Kagome?” asked Shippo.
“I think it would be better if we leave her alone for a while,” she replied. She watched Sango disappear from view. “You see, I know what it’s like to be abandoned by someone I love, so I understand what she’s going through.” Inuyasha had been giving her an inquisitive stare when she said this; she blushed and turned away.
“When were you ever abandoned?” wondered Shippo in naive curiosity.
“Never mind. It’s not important; forget I said it.”
“Kagome...” Inuyasha’s eyes were full of concern.
“Hey, I said it wasn’t important. We need to leave them alone for a while and keep looking for jewel shards.” She mounted her bike and pedaled off. Inuyasha and Shippo exchanged confused looks, and followed.
Sango couldn’t see where she was going. The tears streamed down her cheeks, blurring her vision. Her legs continued to pound on the ground, putting as much distance between herself and her friends as she could. Don’t follow me, she prayed. She ran and ran, then her foot snagged on a rock and she tumbled to the ground. She pushed herself into a sitting position but didn’t try to get back on her feet. She sat there in the grass, ignoring the pain her fall had inflicted. The pain in her heart was so great that nothing else fazed her. She hugged herself, rocking back and forth and weeping bitterly. It was now her that sounded like a dying animal, her that cried out in anguish. The world was cold and indifferent to her suffering; it offered her no comfort. She wept and wept, so grieved that she didn’t even care if a demon attacked her.
Perhaps what brought her the most pain was how Miroku would never know that his absence had given her so much grief. Sango felt like she was being ripped apart from the inside and her heart thrown into a pit of angry demons. She felt empty, alone, abandoned, frightened, despairing, hopeless, unwanted, unloved, and Miroku would never know. She had gotten used to seeing his face every day; gotten used to his voice; was used to his eyes staring at her lecherously; grew to enjoy his company; and had even grown accustomed, though far from tolerant, to his hands groping her. She wished he had been interested in more than just her body, but now that he was gone she decided she wouldn’t mind it so much. She had been too stubborn to admit to herself she was falling in love with the amorous monk and now it was too late for her to tell him. He would never know now how she felt, and that made her pain even worse.
At last she couldn’t seem to cry any longer, and got up using her boomerang to help her to her feet. She walked for a few minutes in a daze. She was emotionally and physically drained and her feet seemed to be moving of their own accord. The world loomed in around her like a bird of prey, threatening and unfriendly. She was all alone for the second time in her life. A new wave of sorrow crashed down upon her and she collapsed to her knees again. Her weapon fell down at her side. She thought she had used all of her tears, but more came, stinging her eyes and cheeks. She curled up in a little ball and wept. All she could think about was Miroku, and how desperately she wished to see him again. He was gone from her life, possibly forever. She let out a piteous moan as she thought this, and laid in the grass drowning in her own sorrow.
