Alone in the room, she huddled. White, bloodied bandages encircle her head, covering most of her hair; although she wants to tear at them, some common sense dictates she leave them.
"Sango?"
She stared blindly in the direction of the soft male voice. "Houshi-sama... he isn't coming back, is he?" she demanded. "I woke up one day and he was gone; where did he go?"
If she had tried, she would have seen despair flicker over her visitor's face. "Sango – please eat." The faint clickclack of laquered bowls against each other as he set the tray down. "You have to eat something – you need to build up your strength, you haven't eaten since – "
"Why do you call me Sango?" she demanded. "You always used to call me Ane-ue."
Today, he visited her early in the morning before she was ready. Sango jerked awake from her nightmare to find him kneeling beside her pillow.
"What are you doing here, Kohaku?"
"You were having a bad dream," came the gentle voice. Warm hands grazed hers, smoothing over her crumpled sleeves and coming to rest on her shoulders. "You were screaming."
Sango shook her head. "In my dreams, he leaves and he never comes back. He leaves me and my broken heart, my broken body, my broken soul."
He shook her shoulders – lightly, to clear her thoughts of the melancholy. "You aren't broken, Sango. Never say that."
She blinked and the glazed look dissipated from her eyes. "Ane-ue," she said softly.
The nightmare is always the same; she is standing in a field of flowers. Lilies. White lilies as far as the eye can see. Beautiful flowers perfectly white, bowing gracefully in the wind.
She is the imperfect one which marrs the field.
He stood on the edge of the flowers, his purple robes flying in the breeze. The rings of his shakujou jingle in the breeze.
"Miroku?"
Faceless, he smiled; limbless, he turned around and began to walk away.
His voice drifted over to her, carried by the wind: goodbye, Sango.
"Miroku!" Sango breaks into a run; the faster she pumps her legs, the farther away he gets. Smiling, always smiling.
Finally, she can run no more. She collapsed into the field of flowers, her fingers curling into the dirt in helpless frustration – these hands which soothed nighttime fears, threw Hiraikotsu, slapped monks can now only dig into earth.
All she has are the lilies.
"Miroku!"
Sango woke up gasping for breath. Tears begin to flow from her eyes; the nightmare was so beautiful. That is precisely why it is a nightmare.
Sango was picking at the loose end of white cloth dangling from over one ear when he entered, carrying a wooden bucket.
"It's time to remove those bandages, Sango," he said.
She quirked an eyebrow at him as he knelt down and began easing away the sticky bandage from her scalp. "I was too careless," she remarked. "The boar youkai shouldn't have caught me off guard like that."
"We all make mistakes now and then, don't we?" He ran the washcloth over her skin and pulled away. "There – done."
"Thank you, Kohaku."
He ducked his head as he was leaving, careful not to let her see his face.
His knock: firm, brisk, intentional; came as she was busy putting away her bedding – a habit ingrained into her since she was a girl. Sango nodded in silent approval; he learned the rules she set for him fast.
"May I come in now?" he asked.
"Not yet..." She fastened the white ribbon in her hair and smoothed her fringe. "Alright, now."
The door slid open; his footsteps resounded through the floor. "You look beautiful," he said with a shaky laugh, cupping her cheek.
She jerked back, her face aflame and scrambled for her hidden weapons which are not there – she remembered, too late, that they were consigned along with Hiraikotsu to the shed at the back of the house when she had her accident. "Kohaku, you...!" His touch had awakened feelings she would never have associated with her little brother.
He flinched, his hand frozen in midair. "I – I'm sorry, Sa – Ane-ue. Please forgive me, I... forgot myself."
Sango's face was still very red as she tentatively inched back to him, where he sat, pain engraved into each line of his features. "... No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have overreacted like that. It was merely an innocent gesture – Kohaku, please forgive me." She touched his forehead, smoothing back his unruly bangs, wondering how she had let them grow so long.
Eventually he lifted his face to hers – cheeks tear-streaked from crying – and manages a smile. "Ane-ue." Sango smiled reassuringly and opening her arms, drew him down into an embrace.
"It's alright," she whispered into his ear, rocking him as she used to do years ago. "Everything will be alright." A choked sob escaped his lips; she shushed him and stroked his hair.
"Do you want to go outside? You've been cooped up in here for a long time."
"Mmm, that's true." Sango tilted her head, a vaguely curious expression crossing her face. "I haven't been training with Hiraikotsu for too long – Father would have been furious."
He held out his hand. "Come on, then." She smiled and took it, letting him pull her away.
"Where are you taking me, Kohaku?"
Sunlight dazzled her momentarily; when her eyes grew accustomed to the change in lighting, she gazed at the verdant landscape that stretched out as far as she could see. Utterly cliche as it was, birdsong filled the nearby forest and a warm breeze tickled her fringe. His hand was warm in hers.
She laughed. "Ah – I've been inside too long." The newly-healed wound on her head throbbed briefly.
Sango felt a rush of childish joy as she tugged on his hand. "Come on! Let's go, Kohaku!" She was delighted when he smiled back; he was far too stoic for a boy his age. Never mind she hardly saw him smile these days.
She could not find the river she remembered playing by as a girl but Kohaku led her to another one; it was still a river, though not quite the same.
"Do you remember when you fell in and when Father fished you out, you had a fish in your hand? Father said we never need go hungry as long as you keep falling into the water." Peals of laughter followed the memory.
Something flickered in his eyes.
Sango sobered instantly. "I'm sorry – I keep forgetting. Selfish of me."
"No, San – Ane-ue. It's not your fault."
"You haven't really recovered all your memories," she said, regarding him solemnly. "You haven't been the same since Naraku, Kohaku..." Her fists clenched in her kimono. "We killed him; Inuyasha, Kagome-chan, me, Kirara... Houshi-sama..." A tear slid down her face. "I loved him but still Houshi-sama left, Kohaku... he left me, one summer day in a field of lilies..."
He seized her in a fierce embrace, one hand cradling her head, pressing her face to his chest. "He'll come back, Ane-ue. I promise. He'll come back because he loves you too."
"Everything I love leaves me eventually – even Kirara's gone," mumbled Sango in a small voice. "Except you. You're all I have left, Kohaku." Her hands came up around his neck, clinging tightly as though she was afraid he would disappear.
He was crying again; his broad shoulders shaking in her arms. And she wondered since when her little brother had learnt to feel her pain, to cry for her because Sango could not.
It was raining, and Sango's mood was spoilt somewhat by the gloomy weather.
"Bored?"
He stood in the doorway, holding something familiar –
"Hiraikotsu?"
Dusty, blunted and yellowed; her trusty weapon was otherwise unaffected by the passage of time. He gave it to her, along with her favourite polishing cloth.
"I thought you might want to clean it up – then we can go out demon slaying again."
Sango sighed, running her hand over the worn bone. "I don't know, Kohaku – I haven't been training for a while and I haven't gone out on an extermination since Houshi-sama left. Plus, I bet you've been practising with your kusari-gama."
"You'll be fine." He knelt beside her, taking her hand into his. "There's something special between you and Hiraikotsu."
"That's because it's alive." A memory brightened her eyes. "You know, Kohaku, I haven't told you yet; while I was travelling with Houshi-sama and the others, I sacrificed Hiraikotsu for him while we were battling a bone youkai." She settled back more comfortably. "With the help of the medicines of Yakurou Dokusen-sama, it was eventually restored. But Houshi-sama was the one who saved Hiraikotsu; then, Houshi-sama didn't know I knew that he drank the poison that made him unable to feel pain and thus restored it."
A wistful look appeared on her features. "Houshi-sama nearly killed himself later because he was unable to feel any pain from taking up shouki into his Kazaana; he always gets hurt trying to save me."
"I'm sure he has his reasons."
Sango nodded slowly. "At first, I hated him because he was a lecher, and he was forever groping me. But he was always saving me in times of danger."
"I don't know when it turned to love. Maybe it happened in between my worrying myself sick while waiting for Houshi-sama to wake up after sucking in too much saimyoshou poison and when I was worried about you and he would be there, reminding me there was still hope – " she broke off suddenly, her chest heaving.
She dabbed at her eyes furiously with her sleeve. "I loved him – and I thought he loved me. He proposed to me, promised me a life together when Naraku was dead and the Kazaana was gone."
There was tears in his eyes as well.
"What then?"
"We were married and we were happy. Until that day – " she shook her head.
He moved closer, wrapping an arm around her waist. "He will come back; Houshi-sama never really left."
"What do you mean?"
"Do you remember anything before the day Houshi-sama left?" he pressed. "Just before – the few weeks, days before..."
Sango frowned. "Not much; I remember going out on an extermination mission and fighting boar youkai... one caught me off balance... I remember hitting my head and waking up with you." Her hand flew to the scar on the back of her head; another trophy to add to her collection, no more.
"Nothing else?" He was gripping her wrist so tightly it hurt – she cried out.
"Kohaku, you're hurting me! What's the matter?"
The pressure vanished instantly; he immediately backed away, a look of horror in his eyes. "Sango, I'm sorry..."
"Ane-ue," she corrected patiently, discreetly rubbing her wrist. "Why do you keep calling me Sango?"
"I never intended to hurt you," he continued as though she had not spoken; he stared at his hands in disbelief.
"We always end up hurting the people we care about," said Sango. "It's a fact of life; a sad truth we must accept. We hurt because we care too much..."
He forced a chuckle. "Since when were you so wise?"
She shook her head. "I never was – it's something Houshi-sama used to say."
He blanched and climbed to his feet; leaning against the wall for support, he staggered out of the room with a hurried, "I'll be back soon."
Sango went after him. "Kohaku, your face is so pale – what's wrong? Are you ill?"
"No – no, I'll be fine, don't worry about me..."
"Kohaku – "
He paused in the door frame. "Sango, please. I'm fine." His voice wavered with false bravado which barely concealed the anguish filling it.
He was sitting on the veranda, staring into space when a familiar tread caught his attention.
"... You're back."
The newcomer's face would have been handsome, if it had not been permanently etched with worry lines. "How is she?"
"No change from the last time you came home."
Kirara mewed anxiously and wound herself around his legs; he bent to pat her.
"Haven't Kagome-sama's medicines from her time worked?"
"Miraculous as they are, she said there are some afflictions that healers haven't learnt to cure yet – and I don't think they ever will." He poured some tea for the newcomer, who accepted it with a grateful smile and nod. "Kagome-sama did say head injuries are notoriously difficult."
The newcomer took a long sip of tea. "I think I shouldn't leave home any more – I should stay home and care for her."
"No. I'll be frank with you; we need the money the extermination jobs bring. I've heard of a healer in the far north, where the Ainu live, who can work miracles; Yoshi just returned from a trip there, he said he saw the man bring back someone from the dead."
His eyes lit up with a desperate light – the eyes of a man at his wits' end with absolutely nothing left to lose.
"... Don't raise your hopes," said the newcomer quietly. "It has been so long and she's shown no signs of improvement."
"What else can I do?"
The newcomer rested a callused hand on his shoulder. "Houshi-sama – it has been a year."
Miroku stared at the floor. "Only a year since her accident? I... time passes so fast. Perhaps it's karma for the indiscretions of my youth that the one woman I truly love forgot me so easily and completely." He slammed his fist into the mat. "Even though she has no idea who I am, I manage to hurt her still – she has nightmares in which I leave her. Again and again."
Kohaku gripped his brother-in-law's shoulder tightly. "Does Ane-ue still think you're me – has she ever asked about you?"
"She demands I call her Ane-ue when I forget and call her 'Sango'," answered the older man. "She treats me as she does you in every respect. She even talks about the past; every other memory perfectly preserved, and she – " He took a moment to compose himself before continuing. " – she continues to believe I broke her heart by leaving her."
He looked up and smiled bitterly. "Isn't it amazing what one ill-placed rock will do? She remembers everything else... she just can't recognize the people in her memories. Perfectly herself, in every way but one."
"Kohaku?"
They both froze as Sango's voice echoed around the tiny hut. She appeared then; framed in the doorway, her hair loose from its usual ponytail, falling about her face.
"Kohaku, I – Oh, I'm sorry..."
"Don't worry, Ane-ue," forced out Miroku, his eyes squeezed shut. "You didn't interrupt anything."
Sango nodded. "Good morning," she said politely. "Are you a friend of Kohaku's?"
Kohaku stared back; his eyes swirled with a thousand different emotions. Unlike Miroku's mask of anguish, his is perfectly composed, save for a slight trembling in his hand. "... Yes, onee-sama."
Perfectly herself, in every way but one.
She bowed. "Please, call me Sango. Forgive me for interrupting so rudely, I'll leave you two to talk."
Miroku's shoulders shook as the sound of her footsteps receded down the hallway.
