Disclaimer: Nope. I don't own these wonderful characters.

This is my first proper fanfiction. There is more to come in this story. To all those MirSan fans, this is not, I repeat, not a story for you to read. This is striclty a SanBan story.

Summary: Sango does not feel attracted to Miroku had she been a few weeks ago. Right after the couple share their feelings with each other, Sango is kidnapped by none other than, Bankotsu. Through the reign of evil and bitterness, the two bond in the process. Read and find out more! This is a SanBan fic.

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The silent whisper of breeze echoed in her ears, the swift movement of grass against the salty, sea wind. She sat by a hill, hands clenched tightly into the soil of the yellowing grass. A village was not too far from where she sat, the yells of children laughing and giggling, the cheering voice of an audience. She felt strangely secluded; never had Sango been a fan of parties. She wasn't up for it when in fact her brother was out there, alone, isolated and possessed by Naraku. Just the though made her quiver with anger and her knuckles, if possible, tightened even more so than before, whitening above the soil. Yet she could not help herself being lead away from the party- she was, however, not here because of the party. It was just him. Houshi-sama. Miroku. She did not quite know what it felt like to say his name. She could think it plainly but never say it and it gave her an unusual temptation to blurt it out.

And so she did. She did not mouth it, whisper it or imagined herself doing it. She just said it. A little too loudly, perhaps. "Miroku." her voice emitted through the air preeminently. Sango blinked. The name rolled off her tongue oddly and so she said it again. Again and again. There was a pause. He was probably out there, flirting with the women. The Cheif's perfect daughter. She was just that flawless. Even Sango was at a loss for words. The smooth, milky skin of hers and the pink hue that formed on her high cheek bones everytime she giggled. Her hair was all the more undeniably perfect. Her long, jet-black, silky hair. A ribbon set nicely upon the side of her bangs. It was just how she held herself in a pose, people took it in awe. And her eyes. Those large, warming blue eyes.

"I take it," said a tired voice from behind, "that you are not here because you hate parties. I sat in the crowd, eating the food, enjoying the time and I noticed you were not there. You know...you were the one who slayed that demon single-handedly. Should you not be celebrating? Or do you just hate to be around me?"

Sango whirled around. There he was. Standing there in his navy blue clothes, staff held aloft in his right hand and look of amusement in his eyes at Sango's bewilderment. Sango pursed her lips huffily, crossed her arms tightly across her chest and stated, "You are wrong." Miroku sighed, stepping closer to her aggravated silhouette and setting himself neatly beside her. Tilting his head to the side, looking at Sango incredulously he spoke in an unnerving voice, "You are avoiding me."

Sango's clenched hands loosened and her eyes softened at his expression. She looked away instantly. She could hardly bear to watch him scruntinizing her face, her thoughts, her body movements. She was in fact avoiding him. It wasn't jealously nor had it been anger this time. This time she felt nothing. She had lost all feeling for the man beside her. She had lost all faith, hope and everything she had felt when she had been in love with him. Gulping down her desire to share her new discovery, she heard a sharp intake of breath.

"May I ask why?" Miroku spoke at last. The silence was killing him.

"Miroku."

"What?"

Miroku's eyes widened, a hand enclosing atop Sango's, his eyes narrowing as if in a state of dream. "Say it again." he whispered lightly, a faint smile dancing upon his lips. Sango looked up, her bottom lip trembling as her hand squeezed his and she broke out, tears spilling carelessly down her cheeks. Miroku tilted her chin upwards and let his eyes read into her own. In a cracked voice and a tear-stained face, Sango whispered into his face, "Miroku."

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No. No it couldn't be. Miroku practically knew what had caused her to say his name. He had always thought of it on the day she would confess her love to him and blushing with a smile; her hazel eyes glinting with happiness and the perfect look on her face. She would alway be that flawless. No matter what she did, she always looked undoubtedly beautiful. At least in Miroku's eyes, anyway. He was brought back to reality and he let go of her chin, shaking his head in disbelief. She looked so fragile. Just sitting there, a look of guilt forming on her pale features. And then without hesitation, he leaned over and placed a kiss on her cheek. Sango niether gasped or backed away. She closed her eyes in a somber expression and gave his hand yet another squeeze.

"I knew that you would move on one day," Miroku grinned lightly as he pulled back, "Although, I also knew my name would sound beautifully upon your lips." It was with his words Sango had blushed, unable to look away from his piercing eyes. She exhaled noisily and began, "I-- I'm sorry, Miroku." Miroku waved it away idly, a grin still plastered upon his face. He was also beginning to realise his odds with the woman. And he realised, he was never in love with her. She was merely a gorgeous friend of his all along.

"I understand. I too felt strangely distant from you a few weeks from now. It was a feeling that I thought unecessary...until now."

Sango merely smiled and together, hand in hand they stood up and walked into the midst of the party.