Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha.

Clamping her hands over her bottom incredulously, Sango whirled on the man who was blithely lifting her skirt to peek at her panties, brow twitching in anger.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" she hissed, eyes flashing.

Violet eyes blinked languidly at her. "Oh? You noticed me?"

Hazel eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Who wouldn't notice a pervert like you when you're being so obvious?"

The boy – who was wearing her school's uniform – looked away, at the crowds milling out of the train station. "You'd be surprised by how many people don't even see me," he murmured.

Sango huffed and turned away from the weird pervert. "Whatever, you can be late if you want to but I need to make a good impression on my first day."

The boy laughed at her determination. "I'm Miroku," he offered.

Puzzled at the compulsion to share her name in return, she obeyed it anyway, "Sango."

He was there again, at the station as though he'd been waiting for her all day, which was absurd. Those violet eyes were entrancing, she thought, but devious as they ran down her body appreciatively.

"Were you waiting for me?" she demanded suspiciously.

Linking his hands behind his head nonchalantly, he admitted, "Something like that."

The movement allowed her a glimpse of a ponytail at the nape of his neck. "Doesn't the school tell you to cut your hair?" she asked.

"There's a rule like that nowadays?" he murmured, "times are changing I guess."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sango queried, eyebrows coming together to form a pucker on her forehead, "that rule has been in place for five years already."

His eyes flashed with something that Sango couldn't identify, but he quickly cloaked his expression with an airy smile that didn't quite reach those striking eyes. "Forget I said anything."

There was something so strange about this man.

"Whatever," she grumbled, "I'm going home."

She flinched as he grabbed her sleeve tightly and, with a peculiar intensity, he leaned in so that their foreheads were almost touching. "Stay safe on your journey, okay?"

For some reason, Sango could feel her cheeks heating with a blush and she nodded dumbly. Staggering away, she regained her senses enough to ask him one last question, "What class are you in?"

"Ah," he hummed, tucking his hands into his pockets nonchalantly, "That'd be class 2-A."

"Kagome-chan?"

"Sango-chan? What's wrong? Why are you calling me so late at night?"

Sango blushed heavily. Like she'd admit to thinking about Miroku so much that she couldn't sleep; infatuation just wasn't her style.

"You're in class 2-A, right?"

"Yeah... what's up?"

"Do you know a guy named Miroku?"

"... there's no guy called Miroku in my class, Sango-chan."

Sango blinked. "Maybe you just don't know of him?" Though how anyone could overlook those eyes was beyond Sango's comprehension.

There was a pregnant pause on the line. "Sango-chan, I'm class president, I know the people in the class."

"Oh, well, never mind then!" Sango chirped as she slammed the phone down. Flopping back onto her bed she tried to quell the feeling of betrayal that rose in her chest. Why had he lied to her?

Sango grit her teeth, steeled her nerves and stepped onto the train. Since Miroku had lied to her she'd gotten off the train a stop earlier and managed to avoid seeing him but today, today she would confront him.

At least... she'd been planning to.

What was I thinking? It's not like he'll be here on a Saturday!

Hanging her head in utter embarrassment, she stepped off the train and marched through the station...

And then did a double take when she saw him stood as he always was just outside the station next to the old tree.

Racing over to him she balked at his outfit. "Why are you wearing your school uniform?"

Those violet eyes clouded over and he looked away. "Ah..."

"Why did you lie?" she demanded, "about being in 2-A."

He turned to face her again, violet eyes sad and... tired. "I didn't lie. I was in 2-A."

"Huh?"

"I'm sorry, Sango-chan," he muttered softly. He stepped away from the tree and she watched, perplexed, as he flipped the skirt of some random woman. Next, he knocked a cigarette from a man's hand and then he flicked a formidable looking man on the nose belligerently.

Sango trembled as he walked back over to her, hands in pockets. "Why didn't they react?" she demanded.

"They can't see me."

"You're invisible."

"Dead."

Sango backed away, pressing a hand to her mouth as a tear escaped her. "No way."

"I'm sorry I couldn't tell you," he murmured, a mocking smile twisted his lips, "I guess I liked that you thought of me as alive."

"You died here?" she asked.

"This tree," he gestured at the tree behind Sango, "was planted in my memory... I was simply waiting for the train."

"What... what happened?"

"I fell... onto the tracks."

"How long?"

"Seven years I think," he glanced at the tree as though measuring it, "my memory is a little fuzzy."

"Why haven't you... gone to wherever you should be?"

Miroku rubbed the back of his head sheepishly and then confided, "I'm... scared, I guess."

Crack.

Uncaring of the confused glances she was getting from passersby, Sango rounded on the ghost she'd just slapped. "Scared? Don't give me that. You're just a pervert who wants to stay and molest women!"

Violet eyes tracked the tears as they poured down her face, astonished.

"You have to move on!" she yelled, "Or I'll be really mad, Miroku!"

He leant forwards, eyes filled with wonder. "You're trying to... help me?"

"Don't kid with me!" she sobbed. "Go!"

The crying cut off quickly as he pressed his lips ever so softly to hers. "Crying for me," he murmured. "I can go now... but I wish I didn't have to."

Through the film of tears, she realised she couldn't see him anymore.

Thank you, Sango-chan.

A/N: This was originally posted on the 1st January 2011 for the Memory prompt over on mirsan_fics and placed 1st.

Thanks for reading!