Work Text:
Artwork commission by Otaku-108
This is new, Sango thought.
He had raven black hair that came down to his shoulders. Most of it was tied in a low ponytail, but a few strands had escaped. His earrings jangled as he moved, creating a haunting melody while he sat on the pavement and played his violin.
He was not someone Sango had ever seen before: well, more precisely, heard before.
It disrupted her routine, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. The library was Sango’s safe space. It was where she got to dream, and where she escaped the expectations of her family. She threw herself into the stories of maidens who didn’t wait for their princes to rescue them, who rescued themselves, instead.
Dorothy Gale went to Oz and defeated the witch and exposed the wizard. Alice danced with the Mad Hatter and traded wits with the Cheshire cat, all while not letting the Queen bully her.
They were women who were not destined to drab lives, and neither was Sango. That was why the library had become Sango’s second home. That was why, against her family’s wishes, she applied to college. That too was why, even at a university with a grand library, she preferred the cozy one-room schoolhouse style library in her neighborhood. Because it reminded her that it was okay to dare to dream.
It was why a violin player sitting in front of her safe harbor caught her off guard.
At least the guy has talent.
He was cute, too.
Sango shook the thought out of her head and continued on inside. No. She was a busy woman, in college! She had no time to think of such frivolous things!
“Didn’t I tell you that you needed to read Howl’s Moving Castle?” Kagome popped out of the children’s room, a grin on her face and her hair up in a messy bun.
Kagome was a Master’s student in Library Science at the university, and she and Sango had become fast friends. They traded book recommendations the ways that others traded ping pong volleys.
“Who’s the violin player?” Sango pointed out the door, only half-absorbing what Kagome was saying.
“Oh… dunno. He plopped down there about an hour ago.” Kagome shrugged. “Come on, come on, tell me what you thought!”
“It was good,” Sango hedged. “It made the Ghibli version make more sense.”
“Boo.” Kagome crossed her arms. “The book is always better, Sango!”
“You’re too close-minded,” Sango retorted. “War is hell as a theme? The redemption of the Witch of the Waste?”
“Yeah yeah yeah… but watching Sophie and Howl bicker in the books.” Kagome winked. “But, you liked that one?”
“I did.” Sango raised her eyebrow. “Okay, Higurashi, I know that tone of voice. What is my next book?”
Kagome giggled and shuffled to the main desk. She pulled a beaten up book from under the counter, then trotted back over to Sango.
“This one was so good I had to buy myself a copy,” Kagome beamed. “If you like fantasy, you’re going to love it.”
Sango looked at the dog-eared pages and the weathered cover.
“A Feudal Fairy Tale?” She looked at Kagome, who was leaning over the main desk with a smirk on her face. “Not Castle in the Air?”
“You liked the movie more than the book,” Kagome teased. “This one will be more your style.”
Sango rolled her eyes and handed the book back to her friend, a sign of accepting the recommendation. “Fine, fine… I’ll read it…”
“Yay!” Kagome scanned Sango’s library card, then the book. “Text me when you get to the part where she frees the demon stuck in the tree. Oh! And then again when you find out—crap. If I keep talking I’m gonna spoil it. Might be best to avoid me until you’re done.”
Sango shook her head and took the book in her hands. “Are you telling me to get out?”
“Yes—no!—yes…” Kagome murmured. “Sit in a coffee shop and read because I will need to talk to you about the book as soon as you’re done.”
“You’re hopeless,” Sango giggled, and she waved goodbye to her friend and took her new reading material out the door with her, chancing a glance at the violin player as she left.
He really is handsome, Sango thought, a secret smile coming to her face. It didn’t do anyone any harm just to look, after all.
Sango tucked A Feudal Fairy Tale underneath her arm as she left the library behind, intent to find her way to her favorite park bench. The sunshine was warm on her skin, the perfect reading day. And Kagome’s recommendations were always on point.
“Bingo.” Luck was on Sango’s side. The bench—the one that was partially shaded by a weeping willow, just in front of the koi pond, was unoccupied.
Sango loved the sound of the trickling water, and she loved to glance up at the lazy movements of orange and white coming from the fish just under the surface.
Yet today, echoes of violin played in her mind as she settled herself in her little corner of tranquility. Sango shook away the visions of unkempt raven hair and delicate fingers plucking at the strings. A Feudal Fairy Tale was waiting for her.
“What the hell?!” Sango clapped her hand over her mouth. She… wasn’t someone who shouted into the air at invisible people. Not usually at least. But someone had defiled the book.
On the inside cover, scribbled in purple ink:
Commentary courtesy of Miroku ♪
On the very first page of text, in the same chicken scratch, was a note: commentary on hanyō racism?
Sango grumbled at the audacity of the asshole who thought it was okay to write all over library books. Someone named Miroku that she officially hated.
Didn’t he know that she read books to escape from the real world? Not have some mansplainer shove it in her face that he would find her even in her happy reading place?!
Sango grabbed her phone and dialed.
“Did you forget something?” Kagome didn’t bother with a greeting.
“No! Why the hell did you give me a book covered in scribbles from some random?” Sango grumbled.
“Wait—what?” Kagome really didn’t know?
“This book is covered in comments from some guy named Miroku,” Sango shot back. “He wrote his goddamn name on it like he’s proud of his library book graffiti.”
“Seriously?” Kagome really didn’t know. “Well, I can see if I can find the guy and make him replace the book… Dammit, I really really wanted you to read it as fast as you could so we could talk about it.”
Kagome sounded so pathetic that Sango groaned.
“It’s okay.” How a woman in her mid-20s could sound so much like a whiny child while still being adorably endearing was something Sango had not figured out. “I’ll read this copy, knowing that justice will be served.”
“Hell yes it will!” Kagome chuckled. “We will hunt down Miroku together!” There was a pause. “After you read that book! Which you need to do pronto! Because I need to talk to you about it!”
“Fine.” Sango rolled her eyes. “Text you later, weirdo.”
Sango heard Kagome giggle on the other end of the line before hanging up.
“Guess I get to deal with your running commentary, Mi-ro-ku,” Sango grumbled to herself, then flipped back to the first page to start reading A Feudal Fairy Tale.
When the hell had it gotten dark?
And how had Sango managed to get home?
Or eaten? Or peed?
Those things probably happened, but they happened in some other world, her brain going on autopilot while she lived in Feudal Japan, following a girl from the future who fell down a well and freed a hanyō from a curse. Sango rooted for the priestess and yelled at the hanyō, waiting for their merry band of found family to finally take down the Big Bad. 85,675 words (and many hours) later, Sango had finished A Feudal Fairy Tale.
It was true that Sango loved books, but usually she didn’t love books. She could read a reasonable amount, sigh contentedly, then put the book away and go about her day. She would then pick it up the next day and return to the world in its pages.
She didn’t lose herself in books. She was practical.
Except that A Feudal Fairy Tale was the only thing that existed that day.
She didn’t usually mourn the last page of a book either, immediately googling if there was a sequel.
Like she had for A Feudal Fairy Tale.
And she hated when people defaced books.
Until she met Miroku.
Was that the problem? That nearly every page had some insight or quip or quibble, scribbled in purple pen, as if it was a conversation across time and space?
(Like the priestess who met her hanyō soulmate!—Sango had to get a grip.)
Hanyō racism was only the first of Miroku’s comments, in reference to the curse that no one tried to break in the 50 years the poor guy was pinned to a tree. It was followed up with timey wimey wibbly wobbly, which had Sango giggling, then grumbling when the Bone Eater’s Well brought the priestess back in time. And apparently Miroku found a kindred in the doomed monk from the found family who liked to grab women’s asses (of course the mansplainer saw himself in the lecher)... but then wrote joie de vivre fatalist, which… changed Sango’s entire perspective of the monk, a man cursed to a horrendous death that he had witnessed his own father suffer.
Sango wanted to talk to Miroku. She wanted to ask him why he covered a library book in his scribbles, and why he signed his vandalism.
She wanted to ask him: how had his damned purple ink changed her experience of a book so completely that she lost herself in its pages? And now, more than anything, she wanted to meet the man who guided her experience through a book, bringing a new color to the pages that she would not have seen without him?
Sango picked up her phone and texted Kagome. It was late, but Kagome was a night owl, and Sango really really wanted to get started on solving the Miroku mystery.
Maybe.
She thought.
I ripped through the book. SO. GOOD.
She hit Send.
AHHHH I knew you’d love it! 😍
Kagome’s reply was immediate. Neither of them had gone to bed at a reasonable time.
Think we can find Miroku?
Sango’s finger hovered over the Send button.
Maybe it was better if she never knew who Miroku was. Maybe it was something that Kagome and the library would take care of, finding him and demanding a replacement book.
...maybe Sango could buy the library a replacement book, and keep this one. Courtesy of Miroku.
Had his garish purple pen really made that much of a difference to the book? Had it really changed the experience, making what was a good book life-changing?
That was so stupid.
Scribbles on a page did not change lives.
But… at the same time, Sango decided to go to college between the bindings of a book, against her parents’ wishes. Sango started taking martial arts, picturing a samurai battle from the book that she was reading. Sango half-believed that she would fall in love because of a book.
She finally pressed Send.
Because, if she was going to fall in love with someone, why not the person who composed the perfect accompaniment to the best book she had ever read?
Meet me at the library tomorrow afternoon — let the games begin! 😘
Kagome’s reply made Sango smirk.
Kagome had probably looked up the mysterious Miroku in the computer (something she almost certainly should not have done). They would get to go on a little adventure!
Plus, Sango couldn’t help but think about the violin player who was out front that day, and how maybe he would be back again tomorrow.
Miroku.
Sango let his name linger in her head as she finally settled down to sleep, carried on the melodies of a solo violin.
Sango probably should have just skipped class that day. Yes, she absolutely knew that it was important to understand why the Ottoman Empire fell, but… there were mysteries to solve and Mirokus to find! (And Kagomes to talk to about really amazing fantasy books!)
Sango found herself re-reading passages from A Feudal Fairy Tale to herself, trying not to be obvious in wiping away tears when the reanimated priestess sacrificed her light for the demon slayer’s little brother (Miroku had commented redemption arc!!! on that part).
When she finally made it out of class, a thought from the previous day crossed her mind once more. An idea.
Instead of making the beeline to the library like she wanted to, she doubled back to her favorite bookstore: Myōga’s Books. A Feudal Fairy Tale was fairly popular, so it was not outside the realm of possibility that there would be a copy for sale.
“Excellent…” The bright red binding from author R. Takahashi was sitting on the shelf. It was 30% off, brand new, waiting for her.
Sango walked up to the counter, and grinned at the hanyō cashier who was working. His silver ears were askew on the top of his head, and his hair was braided down his back. He looked utterly bored—that was, until he saw the book that she was buying.
“You like shi—stuff like that, huh?” the man asked, raising his eyebrow as his golden eyes looked down at the book.
“I do,” Sango answered, a bright smile on her face.
“It ain’t like the other fantasies over there.” The man scowled.
“Because its hero is a hanyō?” Sango asked, her smile turning into a smirk. “I checked it out from the library and… realized I needed a copy.”
“O—oh…” The scowl was gone, and the man (who wore a nametag with the name Inuyasha on it)’s face softened. “So ya liked it?”
“Yeah!” Sango liked that the hanyō—Inuyasha’s—ears had perked up. “My friend Kagome recommended it to me.”
“Your friend, huh?” Inuyasha said; suddenly, he paused what he was doing, typing a code into the cash register computer. “Uh. Employee discount makes your total $16.44, for… good taste.”
Sango liked Inuyasha already.
“Thanks I-nu-ya-sha,” Sango enunciated his name, trying to make sure that she said it correctly. She had… a hunch, and she had an urge. One she decided to act on. Sango continued, “Kagome seems to be dying to talk to anyone about this book, if you ever want to drop by the library she works at. It’s the one on Musashi Avenue.”
“Th—thanks,” Inuyasha answered, his cheeks and his ears pinker than they had been previously. “Maybe… maybe I will drop in. Not many people to talk to about A Feudal Fairy Tale.”
Sango chuckled at the sweet smile on Inuyasha’s face, and trotted out of the bookstore, toward the library to solve the mystery of Miroku (and… to replace the book that he had covered in his commentary).
Inuyasha is Kagome’s type, Sango giggled. And he even seemed interested in dropping by the library, if the blush that covered his face was any indication. Maybe both of us are destined to find love because of this book.
Sango shook the notion out of her head nearly as quickly as she thought of it. At the same time, she had decided that she needed to meet Miroku because he had scribbled on a book. Would Kagome bonding with a cute hanyō over a book about a hanyō hero really be more far-fetched than that?
The sounds of a violin on the wind pulled Sango out of her daydream.
I guess he’s back! Sango thought as she remembered the raven hair and sinewy arms of the man outside the library the day before. Maybe today, because Kagome couldn’t attack her with spoilers for A Feudal Fairy Tale, she could actually stay and listen to him longer.
She rounded the corner, and there he was, his back against the wall, on a folded blanket. Today, unlike yesterday, his eyes were not closed. Today, Sango and the violinist made eye contact. His eyes were indigo sapphires, reflecting the hour between twilight and the night, and even though they were clear as spring pools, Sango swore she could see the shimmer of starlight in them. As she looked into those eyes, they widened, and the music stopped.
“Oh… um… sorry for staring.” Sango sidled past the man, intent on heading into the door, mostly to hide her momentary paralysis.
“No need to apologize,” the man answered. His voice was smooth and gentle, bathing Sango in its warmth. “I did not anticipate losing concentration so easily.” Sango waited… she knew it was coming. “You’re eye-catching.”
It was the most earnest pickup line she had ever heard (and apt, given where she had been staring). This man’s manner was as smooth as his voice.
“You’re not going to earn much of a side-hustle if you stop playing every time a woman walks by,” Sango quipped.
“That makes it seem like I am in this for money,” the man said, a mild smile crossing his face. “Instead of other things.”
“I bet.” Sango rolled her eyes; she hated to admit it, but she was enjoying the flirtation. Even though it was clear now that this was a hustle.
“You don’t think someone could choose to sit in front of a quiet library when the weather is warm and just… play?” He had raised his eyebrow. He was playful. He reminded Sango of the monk in A Feudal Fairy Tale.
“There’s a park not even three blocks from here,” Sango countered. “With a koi pond.” The smile came to her face with a will of its own. “And you like a library stoop?”
“More pleasant view at the library,” the man chuckled. “Fish don’t appreciate my talent.”
“But the denizens of this library do?” Sango asked, realizing that it was rhetorical. She had enjoyed the sounds of the man’s music. Indeed, if Kagome had not shooed her out to read A Feudal Fairy Tale, she would have settled into one of the library’s arm chairs to read, and to listen.
“Your face makes me believe that you answered that question yourself.” God, this man had the measure of her. “What brings you to the library for a second day in a row?”
Sango pulled the new copy of A Feudal Fairy Tale out of her bag. “Returning this.”
The man’s eyes widened, then squinted.
“A Feudal Fairy Tale.” He was studying the book carefully. “You got that from the library?”
“This is a replacement,” Sango replied. “The library book was covered in scribbles and random notes.”
“I don’t imagine that you were the one who covered the book in scribbles…” There was a mysterious sparkle in the violin player’s eyes as he spoke.
“No, I did not…” Sango eyed him shrewdly. It was certainly a lot of interest in an old library book just to keep flirting with a woman. “Have you read this one too?”
“I have.” The smile grew on the man’s face as he said it. “It’s one of my favorite books.”
“Sango!” An all too-cheerful voice interrupted her conversation with the violin player.
“Hi, Kagome.” Sango waved at her friend, who had bounced out the door of the library.
“So? Did you love it?” Kagome winked. “How much did you love it? Are you returning it already? Without reading it again?”
“Apparently, she’s replacing the library’s copy of the book,” the man injected himself into the conversation, drawing Sango’s scowl.
“Wait… what?” Kagome tilted her head and looked at the clean copy of A Feudal Fairy Tale in Sango’s hand. “You’re not going to return Miroku’s book?”
The violin player winced at Kagome’s words, but stayed silent.
“You don’t want a copy covered in all that… that… graffiti…” Sango stopped herself from saying what she was thinking: and amazing opinions and wonderful conversation and a take that made this book even better…
“We could have tracked him down and asked him to pay… why did you go out and buy a new copy?” Kagome asked, though she took A Feudal Fairy Tale in her hand.
“Ohhh, you know.” Sango didn’t want to say it. Not in front of the handsome stranger, and maybe even not to herself. “I wanted to give back… to the library.”
“Alright,” Kagome shrugged without further comment, and strode back into the library to process the book.
“You’re doing something nice for the library buying them a copy of a book they already had?” The violin player was not helping.
“No!” Sango was probably—definitely—blushing. “It’s just… who needs to read all sorts of some other person’s commentary on a book instead of getting to enjoy it themselves? You know? It changes the whole experience of the book and it’s not like everyone would want to have that happen…”
“Changes?.. how?” The violin player looked way too intense as he asked the question.
“It’s dumb.” Sango folded her arms over her body. She thought about retreating into the library, away from the questions from the guy, but something anchored her to the spot, to that conversation. “It would annoy someone.”
“Did it annoy you?” His face was serene, but there was some strange look in his eye, as if Sango’s answer was extremely important.
Sango sighed. How exactly would she explain this?
“It’s… well. No. I didn’t find it annoying.” Sango frowned as she pictured the purple scribbles. “But who knows what other people might think? Maybe they would want to experience the book themselves without someone else’s opinions clouding their experience.”
“Did Miroku’s words hurt your experience?” He just would not stop gazing at Sango like that, would he?
“N—no. Not mine,” Sango answered. “He—the things he wrote were… they would often help me really get the book. Like he was having a conversation with me.”
“A conversation…” He had leaned closer to Sango now, “you enjoyed?”
“Yeah! What of it?” Sango really hated that the cute stranger had just gotten her to admit she’d actually pretended to form a relationship with a random person who wrote in a book.
“Sounds like this Miroku is someone you need to meet.” The stranger’s grin had turned enormous, and he reached into his pocket to pull out his wallet. “How much was the replacement book anyway?”
“Are you going to pay for it, Mr. Chivalry?” Sango tried to sound prickly, but at the man’s chuckle, she realized that the violin player saw right through her.
“Only if the person you want to have pay for it is Miroku.” He was rifling through his wallet, grabbing not cash, but… a student ID.
Miroku Hoshiyama
“You!” Sango backed away as fast as she could.
She needed to get far away from the embarrassment that threatened to drown her. Unfortunately, that did not include paying attention to where she was going, because suddenly, all Sango saw was blue sky, and her feet were no longer connecting to the ground.
Of course she had tripped over the curb.
Of course she was about to fall on her ass in this humiliating situation.
“Sango!” The violin player—Miroku—dove after her, catching her hand just before she hit the ground.
God, his grip was strong.
“Goddammit!” Sango slumped over, falling forward instead of back. Unfortunately Miroku was there to catch her fall, too, which was now directly into his arms.
“You okay?” Ugh, he was not supposed to be warm, and soft, and tender.
“Miroku? Really??” Sango shoved out of Miroku’s arms. “Did you and Kagome plan some big elaborate joke on me? Is that what this is?”
“What?” Miroku’s eyes grew wide. “No! Honestly, no.”
“Then how the hell do you play the violin right outside the stupid library the day that Kagome makes me read this book, your book?!” Sango tried to sound angry, she really did, but all that she seemed to be exuding at the moment was ignominy.
Soft footfalls and the jangly sound of the bells let Sango know that she and Miroku were no longer alone.
“Sango?” Wonderful. Apparently Kagome was back. “Everything okay?”
“You!” Sango needed to yell at people, and staring into Miroku’s eyes full of starlight was making her light-headed and confused. “Did you two scheme? Think oooh oooh, poor lonely Sango! Let’s try to set her up!”
“What?!” Kagome’s voice sounded like two voices, but that was not going to deter Sango’s rant.
“So you give me a book that speaks to my soul and… it just so happens that the cute violin player in front of your stupid library is the same one who wrote all that amazing stuff in the library’s copy?” Sango probably should have been paying better attention to how confused Kagome continued to look… “Because it would be a fun little joke on Sango! Ha ha ha!”
“You… think I’m cute?”
Oh no. Oh no.
Sango stopped and stared at the two people in front of her. From the wide eyes and the dumbfounded look on Kagome, to something akin to delight in Miroku, it was clear that no such conspiracy had taken place.
“I—I…” Shit. Sango had made her inner monologue outer. She had yelled the things that she had not meant to ever say. And now, the stupid dumb handsome violin player who wrote incredible things in that book was looking at her with that… smile.
“I think you’re cute, too.” Miroku took Sango’s hand into his, then he brought it up to his lips, gifting it a featherlight kiss.
“God, you’re smoother than the monk, Miroku.” Kagome’s laugh broke the trance. “She’s going to slap you if you keep that crap up!”
“I… couldn’t resist.” Miroku shrugged. “And I would at least like to pay for my… graffiti.”
“Take Sango to dinner.” Kagome waved him away, then waggled her eyebrows at a still-frozen Sango. “I’ll enter this book into the catalog, and can have the library reimburse—”
“The guy at Myōga’s Books gave me a discount!” Sango’s mouth had a mind of its own. “Really nice hanyō guy, named Inuyasha.”
“Weird thing to mention, but cool,” Kagome giggled.
“He really loves A Feudal Fairy Tale, too.” Why was Sango stressing that so much? “We could… all go to dinner and talk about it.”
Oh. Right. Because forcing Kagome on a weird double-date with a nice guy who gave her the employee discount would help her avoid thinking about Miroku. From one day of listening to him play the violin, and one night of reading his take on the book that was now her favorite, Miroku had scribbled on her heart with his stupid purple ink.
“You’re asking me on… a date. With a guy I’ve never met. Because of a book.” Kagome shot Sango the most skeptical look in the universe.
“Weirder things have happened,” Sango shrugged, chancing a glance at Miroku, who was smiling soppily at her; he seemed as entertained by Sango’s sudden emergency matchmaking coping mechanism as Kagome seemed confused.
“Like a hanyō and a priestess falling through a well and finding each other,” Miroku said, taking a tentative step toward Sango. “And if dinner means getting to talk to more people who understand the brilliance of that book? Count me in!” He scratched the back of his head, seeming to consider whether he wanted to continue; he did. “Just not a place that plays violin music.”
“It’s a date!” Kagome accepted on Sango’s behalf. “Guess… I need to go meet this employee discount-holding hanyō.” She then pointed her finger at the pair. “You better be prepared for a long night of discussions, Sango!” Kagome trotted off toward the bookstore, then pointed threateningly at Miroku. “You too! You’re costing me valuable fangirling time, so you better pay up tonight in… commentary!”
“I’ll do my best,” Miroku sighed, and they both watched Kagome disappear around the corner. “Um, doesn’t she work there?”
“I think she had today off,” Sango answered, allowing herself the soft chuckle that broke forth.
“So… dinner then,” Miroku said, then went to collect his violin. “And… A Feudal Fairy Tale.”
“And no violin,” Sango answered.
“No violin,” Miroku repeated. “Anyway. If you’re going to get serenaded, I… I sort of want to be the one to do it.”
Sango probably should have balked at the relaxed flirtation of the man, should have turned around and escaped from the odd circumstances that let them meet. In the past, that’s exactly what she would have done.
“Do you… want my number?” Sango decided to do the exact opposite.
“Yes!” Miroku’s smile lit him from the inside out.
Sango pulled out a piece of paper, then glanced down at the dog-eared library book covered in purple ink. Miroku’s ink. Who knows? Maybe it was always written in the pages, that Sango would fall in love with a man over a book.