Glassheart
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The world moves for love. It kneels before it in awe.
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"Ane-ue? Where are you? Ane-ue!"
The broken plea followed me out of the nightmare, echoing in my ears. It was not an unfamiliar dream. It had played out in my head more nights than I could count, with minor variations, all involving a hunt for my brother in the darkness, never able to catch him, never able to get close. Tonight was worse than most, with his bloodstained and pleading face burning into my mind as Naraku held him aloft with one hand and plucked the life-sustaining shard from his back with the other.
I suppressed a sob trying to escape my lips, loath to wake the others. Swallowing against the painful tightening in my throat, I opened my eyes reluctantly, exhausted but no longer wanting to sleep. Kirara was a warm wall of fur behind me, as she was on most cool nights for me. Staying in the larger form was a sacrifice on her part; doing so for any length of time always left her ravenously hungry, and game was scarce of late. Her soft breath blew against my cheek, animal but not unpleasant. I buried my face in her fur, and her chest rumbled in a low sleepy purr, but she did not awaken.
It was yet well before dawn. Night was a black void swallowing sound and light, except for the dying embers of the small campfire and the sliver of moon standing between Inuyasha and his human form. The hanyou stood semi-guard as usual, dozing with his back against a large tree. Kagome lay curled on her side in the "sleeping bag", Shippou at her knee. Miroku was...blinking sleepily at me.
"Sango..." he mumbled groggily. "Nightmare?"
Not trusting my voice to sound brave, I nodded mutely.
"Mmm. C'mere," he said, the words almost unrecognizable in a yawn. Half-awake, he opened his arms to me.
I found my tongue, irritated. "You just want to grope me."
He exhaled in what might have been an amused snort. "Didn't I already ask you to be my wife? And besides, I can restrain myself when you're upset."
I didn't entirely trust that, but it had been so long since I'd had anyone to hold me, and everything had gone all to hell. Chichi-ue...Kohaku... Tears still trailed down my face, no matter that I tried to stop them.
I crawled jerkily over to him and collapsed against his chest, warmed by his arms around me, secure in his scent and the echo of his breath after mine.
He guessed the souce of my dream effortlessly. Not that it would have been hard. "We'll save him, koishii." he said in my ear, sleep still slurring his speech. "Naraku won't have his life."
My heart stilled. Koishii?
Beloved?
He had asked me to marry him, yes, but he still only ever called me Sango, the same as Inuyasha. No affectionate Sango-chan, as Kagome called me. I was happy at least that it wasn't with the formal -sama, as he referred to Kagome...but sometimes I'd been jealous of the respect it implied, especially in the beginning. (He'd never molested her, either.)
Aside from the occasional groping, he was determined to keep me at arm's length...I was Sango the Warrior to him, the Tajiya. He could not be a man to me until his curse was lifted, so therefore I could not be a woman to him. He'd only finally admitted his feelings after my desperate unrequited love endangered our lives.
He'd asked me after that to bear his child, the question posed to every woman he met, except for me. I should have guessed that he'd not said it because he knew I might not have said "no". But even the proposal I was so stunned to hear was prefaced by the condition: after I kill Naraku. When I'm not a man condemned to die by my own hand. Literally.
Perhaps that was why I now cried, because I had no faith left. I tried to be brave like the others, and mostly I was, but every encounter with Kohaku undermined my faith until there was precious little. Could I save him? Could we beat Naraku? Was there any hope for his life without the jewel?
And now...if there was no end to Naraku, I would lose my betrothed as well as my father and brother. I would really have nothing.
It was times like this, the dead of night, when all bravery failed me and exposed the lie I donned with my armor, revealing my heart for what it was: vulnerable as glass, unable to bear any further loss. Miroku wasn't the only one who needed me to wear the mask of Tajiya. At times it was all that kept me from becoming again a wailing child. Everyone, even Shippou, they were all so strong, and I tried to be, but each meeting with my brother left me with less hope. Each time I saw his body without its soul I was the one who died a little.
"Shh..." He patted me ineffectually, pulling me closer. "For now, you have me."
Do I? For how long?
"It's not only Kohaku I worry for," I finally said.
He didn't pretend to misunderstand. "Sango...Naraku is powerful, but his only weapons are evil and hatred. Against him we bring power enough of our own, but greater even than that is our love. Kikyou and Inuyasha and Kagome. You and I. Me and my father. You and your father and brother. Against all of this he cannot stand."
His arms tightened around me. "Love is the one thing he does not understand, having even removed his own heart. And not understanding it, he cannot defend against it."
These are not empty words of comfort. He is afraid also, but he believes.
Like a struggling fire suddenly fed more fuel, I felt my own dying faith inexplicably alight. I snuggled into him then, relaxing, feeling the tension fall away like water, wrapping my arms around him. He froze, awakening more fully, finding that he held me as man holds a woman, and not a desolate comrade.
"Sango," he said uncertainly, and stopped.
I snorted. "Don't worry, houshi-sama, your virtue is safe with me," making it clear what I thought of that. "What little there is left of it."
Belying the words, I molded my body to his and kissed him, just once, before returning to my spot next to Kirara. It was enough for now.
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End
I wrote this scene a long time ago with the intention of fleshing it out someday. I finally looked at it again today and realized that there wasn't much else I wanted to add that wouldn't be filler. It wasn't intended to be anything but a sweet snapshot in time. So I decided to post it, since it would never otherwise see the light of day. The quote is a (possibly mangled) line from a movie I saw tonight, M. Night Shyamalan's "The Village". For some reason it almost made me cry. I'm a sap.
(The next chapter of Guardian is almost done, if any of you happen to be reading that. I've been working on that tonight as well.)