AN: This is a prolouge. It's short. If it makes sense to you...then...you can read my mind. Which is a creepy thought. There are very slight spoilers for a more recent manga arc, but nothing beyond that. And in my opininion, this part is a tad off character with the ominous fluffage. That'll change next chapter...I think.

Rewritten

- The playwrights -

Miroku looked into the crackling fire, his mind restless despite the passiveness of his face. He knew this wouldn't fool Sango, but he was tired of his own lies.

"Houshi-sama?

Ah, there it was.

She sat closer to him, concern evident in her face. "Houshi-sama, are you okay?"

He smiled at her, and he hated himself for it. "I promise you Sango, I'm perfectly fine. Try not to worry yourself, it's been a long day."

Sango met his eyes only briefly before tearing herself away and nodding in feigned agreement. A sickening foreboding spread through her entire body. She had been concerned for Miroku's well being ever since the he had received the shouki wounds some time ago, and since then there had a subtle, solemn change in his demeanor that worried her. What she had just seen in his eyes however, was a thousand times more disconcerting. There was sorrow, regret, and something she couldn't quite place.

'...Acceptance? But why...'

She cast her gaze to the ground before she became sick. Something was wrong... very wrong...

A hand suddenly placed itself over hers. She looked up, hurriedly trying to mask her feelings. Miroku regarded her curiously for a moment, before his face softened and his lips curled into a slight smile.

"Sango?"

She found herself suddenly unable to look away.

"I love you, you know."

'Wha...' Her heart beat erratically and she blushed profusely. He was never that open. She already knew the truth of his statement, but he'd never just said it like that. Not when they were sitting around a fire, in one of the rare calms that occurred on their journey.

"Ano... I-" her voice was barely audible, "I love you too, Houshi-sama..."

What his reaction was, she wouldn't know, for Inuyasha, Kagome, and Shippou had chosen that moment to return with more firewood. Kirara, who had been watching Miroku and Sango quietly, gave a small mew of greeting. Kagome, of course, noticed only two things upon entering the clearing. Miroku holding Sango's hand, and the fact that the latter's face was a bright shade of red. They both stared blankly for a moment, before Miroku withdrew his hand slowly. Kagome nudged Inuyasha's side for his reaction to the two, and then frowned upon realizing that he had been examining a ramen packet the entire time.

Miroku smiled inwardly. Inuyasha was prone to moments of surprising understanding, as well as surprising density. Obviously the first was not the case this time. While Inuyasha and Kagome had a brief dispute, Shippou made a point of rummaging through Kagome's bag - pulling out something undoubtedly laden in sugar - and then watched the unfolding scene with a subtle air of dignity that seemed almost odd for someone his age. The rest of the night proceeded in the usual manner, until they all began to drift off to sleep.

Sango briefly mulled over confronting Miroku for the truth, but she was tired, and did not want the others to bear witness to their conversation, whatever would come of it.

'Tomorrow I will ask him. If Houshi-sama and I are to live together, we must learn to be honest with each other. And I know that I want to be with him.'

Her thoughts faded into dreams, and as they did Miroku awakened from a slumber that he had never really been in. The others were asleep, and he found himself free to watch Sango and the way the hair framed her face; to think of time they'd spent together and time they would never spend together; imagining words they'd both said and yet would never say.

'I'm sorry, Sango.'

Of all the times he had groped her, flirted with other women and felt like a jerk, of all the times he had been dishonest and pushed her away, he never felt quite as low as he did now.

'This is for the best.'

It was the cruelest thing he had ever done to her, and yet the greatest thing he could ever give in return for the kindness she'd shown him. He closed his eyes, sighed, and brought acceptance to the scenario.

When he woke up, everything that had shaped his life for almost a year would be gone. Even the shred of decency he had begun to see in himself, if only for a short time.

'Goodbye, Sango.'

Tomorrow would come. It always had before.

-

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