(a/n): Inspired by so many authors. Their stories are my muses.
Don't own! Never will!
When she sees him she knows who he is instantly.
It takes her breath away as she's thrown five hundred and five years into the past. The sky is just as brilliant and blue as the day she met him, only now he is praying. How long has he been there? She used to visit this shrine, so she should have noticed him years ago. Alright, so maybe this is the first time she's been here in a few years but after the well was sealed and some time had passed she wanted to honor her fallen comrades from another era. This was the best way she knew how. Never, did she expect to see him here. And praying, really praying.
He's so different, yet so familiar. His hair is short, almost shaved off and his robes are red. Incense is thick and earthy in the summertime air.
She patiently waits for him to finish praying and enjoys taking in the subtle similarities. His posture, his shoulders, his bone structure. How can it be that he looks so close to, yet so not Miroku?
Once she taps him on the shoulder he freezes and turns to face her. His smile is warm when his eyes connect with hers; brilliant, vibrant, and royal violet. Just as beautiful as they were five hundred years ago.
"Can I help you miss?" His voice takes her back again, it's just as soothing. Like sand and granite. Something warm and familiar pools in her core and she suddenly understands Inuyasha far more than she ever wanted to.
She doesn't respond, lost in his presence, and he becomes puzzled at this young lady fixed so intently on looking right passed him, "Miss?"
"Are you really a monk?" Kagome interjects, suddenly, a little louder than she intended. She sees it, she just wants to hear it. It's all too strange that he would be here, like this.
His smile is warm, warm so joyous and warm as he speaks, "I'm well on my way… Miss..?"
The breeze catches her and suddenly she whizzing past a hanyou on a bicycle. "Kagome. Higurashi Kagome. You're still a monk. How funny. Are you still a lecher?"
Her smile is bright and wide, probably because she knows he'll never understand what she means and he'll think her insane, but a girl can relish in the moment, right?
"Miss, I don't know what you mean. My path is with Buddha." The utterly perplexed look on his handsome oh-so-Miroku features brought about another chime of laughter, and she took one of his hands into her own. Oh, how the roles hand changed. Miroku was really a monk, really not a pervert, really on a path to enlightenment and the soul really does grow.
"I'm sorry to bother you," She finally spoke switching her orbs down to his hand and back up to his eyes, "You just remind of a friend that was very dear to me. You look just like him. He was also a monk."
"Hnn." He looked thoughtful, "Did I know this friend?"
Her left hand subconsciously clutched a string of blue-as-the-sky, broken prayer beads in her pocket. The irony was so strange and so perfect. She brought the beads out of her pocket and let them pool into his hand. The corners of his lips turned down in confusion, "I don't understand."
"A gift," She replied gently and closed his fist around the beads, "And no, you wouldn't know him. He lived around five hundred years ago. You look just like him save for a hole in your hand. He had a wonderful heart and left these for me. You should have them."
Not bothering or wanting to see his reaction, she kicked up her heels and sprinted back home, arms stretched, smile wide, feeling like she was soaring, soaring.
No, he would never remember. She wouldn't hold her hopes that high. It was enough that he never really left, enough that life pushes onward and the soul grows.
When Kagome returned home her back hit her cool, crisp sheets as she clutched her heart. She was flooded with a sense of completion that had been absent for so long; Love prevailed. Miroku had his beads back- with out a reason for them. He was a finally a free man, continuing on his path to love and enlightenment, and that was something Naraku could never take away.