A/N: This was written as a gift for Berry (berryandfriends here) during the Inuyasha Secret Santa tumblr event (inusecretsanta). There's a slight lemon, so mind the rating!
I really hope you guys like this little story. Berry did, thankfully! :'D
Sango knew something was wrong with the man as soon as she opened the door.
She also knew there was no way he would be paying for his stay.
"Sorry, Miss," he said, smiling at her with his bluish lips. As he bowed his head, she noticed his shoulders were shaking. "Would you h-happen to have a p-place in this f-fine establishment—" He paused, inhaling sharply through his teeth, "For a poor m-merchant to stay?"
She was about to answer him when the wind blew into the room, making her teeth chatter. Sango couldn't remember another winter as severe as this one. Turning her head, she quickly surveyed the room, taking in the reactions of her guests to the man at the door.
The three people, two men and a woman, sat in different cushions on the floor, each of them completely focused on their food. The rude samurai with the long black hair, in fact, didn't even lift his face from his bowl.
I can't leave a man in this weather, Sango thought. It shouldn't matter if the other guests mind him or not.
She stepped aside and motioned for him to enter, her eyes glued to his skinny, pale face. He would have been handsome if the winter hadn't treated him so poorly. The uneven ends of his black hair reached his chin, giving him a ragged appearance, but his eyes crinkled and shone at her when she let him in.
"Would you like some soup?" Sango asked, gesturing at a nearby table. "Sit down and warm yourself."
"Thank you." He sighed as he dropped ungracefully to the ground. "I'm Kato. Kato Miroku," he introduced himself as she walked by.
Sango blushed, realizing she hadn't asked. Their meeting had been far from polite, but the situation was extreme. "I-I'm Maki Sango." She turned to look at him, nodding once. "The owner of this inn," she added for his benefit, knowing he might be a little anxious about meeting her nonexistent boss.
They regarded each other for a moment, and she noticed he relaxed considerably. A coughing fit broke their eye contact.
The sound that came from his lungs as he tried to breathe was worrisome.
"E-Excuse me, Mister Kato." The only other woman in the room stood from her short table. "I'm doctor Higurashi." She approached them in quick steps. "May I have a look at you?"
Sango smiled in thanks to the doctor, walking away to get a hot bowl of soup for her new guest. She could feel the eyes of the samurai and the officer on them, but the inn owner couldn't blame the two men for being suspicious. It was hard for warriors to live in times of peace.
Not, of course, that there was peace for everyone.
Sango herself felt as far from it as a man from the moon.
She soon discovered that Miroku the merchant sold sweets, of all things.
"I make them myself," he told her at breakfast the next day. "I intend to set up a stall at the town market as soon as possible."
"And what brings you here, Mister Kato?" Sango asked politely as she kneeled to serve him tea, holding the teapot with her green apron carefully. She knew she was a little clumsy in the morning.
Miroku seemed to consider her question for a moment. "Well, I'm a wanderer, Miss Maki." He smiled, shrugging. "Now that people can't stab each other with swords anymore, it's much safer to travel."
Sango heard the snort of her samurai guest coming from somewhere to the right, but she payed him no mind.
How hard it must be, she thought, traveling the country like this. "And how long do you intend to stay?"
He blinked a few times, a slight frown on his face. "As long as I sell," Miroku said. Casting her a sheepish look, he smiled a little, stretching the skin of his hollow cheeks. "I'll have to use my money to buy the ingredients I need, but I'm ready to repay you with labor."
"O-Oh." Sango frowned too, taking in his shape discreetly. He doesn't seem very fit to work. "It's alright for now, Mister Kato. My younger brother helps me with most of the heavy work around here." And also, she mused, one guest staying at the inn for free won't be a problem for me when spring comes. Not if I marry Matsumoto Naraku.
And I will.
The merchant's smile broadened and he bowed his head, his face getting a little too close to hers. Sango stood up, clutching the teapot in her hand. She didn't know what was it about the man that unsettled her so, and the feeling wasn't welcome.
"At least let me repay your generosity with sweets, then." He grinned, looking for all the world as if he were just a boy. "As soon as the weather allows, I'll go out and buy what I need. You, dear Miss Maki, will be the first person in town to taste my cooking!"
In spite of herself, Sango smiled back.
The samurai snorted again.
During the next week, the merchant didn't do much. He spent his days sitting on the porch outside, drinking tea, eating, and letting the pale winter sun warm his skin. He didn't disturb the other three guests, but the doctor insisted on checking him every day. The samurai and the officer acted as if he didn't even exist, which Sango thought was for the best. She didn't need another man bickering with them; they did it often enough without any extra help.
Miroku was always polite to her when she came to offer him food and ask if he needed anything, but it was a distant politeness. He had undoubtedly noticed the inn wasn't doing so well, and she could tell by his somewhat guarded eyes that he was waiting for the moment she would kick him out.
It made her chest hurt.
"Tell me, Mister Kato," Sango began conversationally, surprising herself as she sat beside him. "Who taught you how to make sweets?"
Miroku's shoulders stiffened and he looked down at his own hands. She started panicking, thinking she'd made him sad with her question, but he spoke before she could apologize. "I was raised by a Buddhist monk, Miss Maki." He lifted his head, giving her a small smile. "He taught me almost everything I know."
"O-Oh. I see."
Sango didn't know what else to say. The abolition of Buddhism had been brutal to its believers, she knew. Unable to contain her curiosity, though, she asked, "And are you Buddhist too, Mister Kato?"
He exhaled through his nose, looking up at the morning sky. "I do believe the same he did, but I'm not a very religious man." Miroku shrugged, smirking. "If I'd followed in his footsteps, I would have been the worst monk of all time." He chuckled.
Sango felt herself blushing, but she didn't look away.
"What kind of sweets do you like, Miss Maki?" Miroku asked suddenly, patting his threadbare clothes as he stood. He looked very determined.
Sango blinked at him. "Well…" She bit her lip. "To tell you the truth, Mister Kato, I haven't had many. I prefer salty food." And sweets are too expensive.
His head snapped up. "You don't like sweets?"
She snorted at his wide eyes; it seemed she had just spoken a blasphemy. "I'm sure I'll like yours," Sango assured him placatingly.
His eyebrows lowered and his shoulders straightened. Miroku looked like a man ready to do battle, and she couldn't help but giggle at how silly he was. "You'll have a sweet tooth preference by the end of winter, Miss Maki." He declared, taking her hand and squeezing it. He winked at her, and Sango felt her face turn hot.
Before she could stutter a reply, he released her and walked away, kicking snow as he went.
Miroku started walking to the market every day. He got out only after lunchtime, though, because Doctor Higurashi wouldn't allow it earlier than that.
"You keep an eye on him when I'm not around, Miss Maki," she said, frowning. "He's gained weight, but he's still not fully well!"
It turned out they had no reason to worry. Miroku seemed quite happy to spend the day in the kitchen, making sweet buns and filling the air with a delicious smell. Even the officer and the samurai stopped arguing when the merchant entered the common room, carrying a tray of delicacies.
"Try this one, Miss Maki," Miroku offered, raising a Cream Pan in front of her nose. She lifted her hand to take it from him, feeling his calloused fingers under hers. The contact lasted only a second, if that, but Sango could swear she saw something flicker in his gaze.
The way his eyes followed the sweet bun to her mouth should have been indecent, but she surprisingly didn't care.
The bun was so soft, it seemed to melt on her tongue. It tasted like vanilla and heaven.
"May I have one, too?" Kagome asked, fiddling with her green kimono. Miroku turned to her and smiled, putting one of the buns in her lifted palm.
The officer stepped forward with a grin. "If Miss Higurashi's having it, so will I!" His electric blue eyes went from Miroku to the doctor, unblinking.
Sango snorted.
The samurai also stepped closer. "Well, since everyone's having it," he grumbled.
"I didn't take you for a man who liked sweets, Inuyasha," Kagome teased, putting emphasis on the title he'd given as a name. She tilted her head at him, smiling.
"Keh."
For the first time since the beginning of winter, the guests—and the inn owner—sat around the same table, sharing sweets and talking. Even Sango's shy brother, Kohaku, who kept mostly to the courtyard, came to sit beside her and have a sweet bun.
During those precious moments, Sango forgot her financial problems, her doubts, and her impending wedding to Naraku, the most powerful man in town.
She even forgot they were virtually strangers. How long had it been since she'd had a friend? Sango couldn't remember. Her childhood had been filled with them, running around her father's dojo barefoot and wild, but after her family had sunk in debts, they never showed their faces again.
Why hadn't she ever sat with any of the three guests to share a meal? Not even with the doctor, who was a woman too? It wasn't very professional, she knew, but they were the only people at the inn, it was winter, and nobody got out a lot. I should have done it sooner, she thought, taking in their pleased faces.
Sango smiled wistfully, grabbing another Cream Pan from the table and bringing it to her mouth.
Maybe Miroku the merchant would sweeten their lives with more than just food.
I'm losing my mind, Sango thought, feeling Miroku's teeth nibbling on her neck.
He pulled at her ponytail a little too roughly, reminding her he was still angry. Her merchant was usually as sweet as the buns he made.
Grabbing her by the waist, Miroku pinned her against the kitchen wall. Her breath hitched as he started kissing her. The smell of his cooking was in the air; the taste of him, in her mouth. He's everywhere, Sango mused.
"I won't let you marry him, my dear Sango," he rasped in her ear. "I won't let you throw your life away."
When had he become so bold? Had it been only three weeks ago?
After his health was restored, Miroku set up his stall at the market. His success was instantaneous; as a result, he needed to spend most of his time cooking. When she began sharing the kitchen with him, a part of Sango knew it was only a matter of time.
They both watched each other's hands a little too much as they worked. The silence was a little too heavy; the air, a little too charged. The inevitability of it all was a little comic, if not tragic.
Sango was supposed to marry Matsumoto Naraku, the richest trader in town. She was supposed to become his wife, giving him her eyes and ears. Was there a new officer staying at the inn? A politician? Why were they in town? She should tell him. In exchange, he would give her her father's dojo back. She would become a kendo teacher, fulfilling her dream.
What was the matter of keeping an eye out for trouble, if it gave her what she wanted? What was the matter of pretending she didn't know about the weapons and the opium? What was the matter of marrying without love?
It will kill you, her heart whispered as she felt Miroku's hot hands running along her thighs. You'll wither away and die.
"S-So you'll m-marry me instead?" Sango taunted, her blood singing in her veins as she felt his lips smile against the skin of her collarbone. When had he opened her clothes?
Miroku chuckled. "I thought you'd never ask."
She sputtered indignantly, but it ended in a moan when he cupped her there. She digged her nails into his shoulders, feeling frantic and at peace at the same time. It was inevitable; had been so since the beginning.
Her mechant was angry because Naraku had visited that morning. Although they didn't even hold hands, the man stood a little too close, watching her like a hawk. As Naraku put his hand on the small of her back, Miroku's tray of sweets dropped to the floor.
He mumbled something about being too clumsy, forcing a laugh, but his shielded eyes had spoken volumes.
You are not betraying Miroku, Sango had told herself. You don't love Matsumoto.
But your engagement still stands, her conscience interjected. And it shouldn't anymore.
Naraku showed up once in a blue moon. Sango knew he was there simply to see if Tanaka Koga was trouble for his affairs. Unconcerned, he left as soon as he had his verdict: that Koga was, in essence, an idiot.
Miroku hadn't cared about Naraku's reason to show, though.
Now that they were connected, his anger seemed to be turning into something else—something warm and demanding. He thrust his hips deep and slow, gyrating them just a little at the end of each push.
It was as if he wanted to grow inside her the roots he never had; as if he wanted to stay. Bringing one of his hands to her mouth, Sango placed sloppy kisses on his palm, tasting the salt of his skin—with a touch of vanilla.
She would deal with Naraku the next time he decided to show. She would tell him he could still have his informations, but the engagement was off. To hell with the dojo; it had been years since she'd sold it, anyway.
Besides, Sango thought humorously, relishing in Miroku's hiss as she clenched herself around him, even if I don't teach kendo, I'll still get plenty of exercise.
It didn't take long for her toes to curl.
As their breathing slowed, Miroku gradually let her legs slide down from his waist. Feeling his rear with her calves, she noticed, quite satisfied, that he had indeed gained weight.
"We can't—do this—here—again," she said between pants. "Kohaku—"
He nuzzled her neck to show he understood, bringing a lazy smile to Sango's lips.
Life was, at least for the moment, sweet.
When Sango was six, she was bitten by a snake.
There was a creek that ran behind her father's dojo, and she liked playing there during summer. The tall bushes used to reach her shoulders, offering the snake the perfect camouflage.
After mercilessly sinking its teeth in her foot, the creature hissed.
It hurt me, then blew on the wound to make the pain go away, she now thought.
Her fiancé was a little like that.
Naraku watched her over his cup, the setting sun making his reddish-brown eyes burn crimson. They were both sitting on the porch, drinking tea and talking quietly. Miroku had already left for the market, unaware of Sango's plans.
"So, Miss Maki, you don't want to marry me anymore," he stated. "May I ask why?"
Sango stiffened, clenching her cup in her hands. "I realized I can't marry without love," she answered honestly. "I thought I could, Mister Matsumoto, but it's not for me."
Naraku put his cup back on the saucer, his face contemplative. "But I could offer you so much, my dear," he said at last, pinning her with his gaze. "And I asked for so, so little in return." The trader sighed. "In fact, I had little to gain at all."
Sango felt a strong urge to punch his jaw. "I'll still keep you informed of who comes and goes," she vowed. "I'm not one to go back on my word." Even if I don't agree with your schemes.Sango glared at him, unable to stop herself. "I just want to live my life as I choose, Mister Matsumoto. Nothing more."
She knew Naraku was a capricious man; maybe that was his true reason for wanting to marry her. Sango refused to be more of a puppet doll than she already was.
"As you choose, you say," Naraku mused. He rose to his feet, patting his robes. "I suppose it's settled, then." Without warning, he leaned over the table and grabbed her chin, squeezing it. Like a snake's lunge, Sango thought, stifling a groan.
His eyebrows lowered. "Step out of line, Miss Maki, and I guarantee it will be the last thing you do," he warned. Releasing her, Naraku straightened. "I guess I'll have to pay you for your services from now on." He smirked. "Our arrangement would be dishonorable otherwise."
The bite. The blowing.
Even though he already had the upper hand, he wanted the satisfaction of buying her. Running out of patience (and fear), Sango opened her mouth to tell Matsumoto Naraku just what he could do with his money, when her samurai guest showed up.
"Something wrong, Sango?" Inuyasha asked, his dark grey eyes going from Naraku to her. She didn't think he was even aware of it, but his hand closed around the handle of his sword.
There was a pregnant pause as the two men regarded each other. Inuyasha scowled; Naraku smiled.
"Careful with that sword, samurai," Naraku drawled. "You could get arrested now."
"Only if I walk around town with it," Inuyasha retorted. Stunned, Sango noticed he wasn't even blinking. "I'm standing still."
"And what will you accomplish standing still with a sword, samurai?"
"You'd be surprised."
Sango abruptly stood up, all her fear coming back to her in a strong wave. She imagined coming home to the inn one day and finding her friend's lifeless body at the common room.
"Inuyasha makes kitchen knives," she interjected. "He's not a samurai anymore." Sango clenched her fists, not wanting to beg, but ready to do it. "He's not a threat."
Naraku's eyes traveled from Inuyasha's head to his toes. "I can see that, Miss Maki." Turning to her, he nodded, smiling. "We'll keep in touch."
As soon as he was out of sight, Sango grabbed Inuyasha's hair, bringing his face close to hers.
"Hey!"
"Stay out of my problems, Inuyasha," she warned. "They're none of your business!"
"Are they Miroku's business?" He asked wryly, his eyes glaring daggers at her.
Sango stepped back as if he'd slapped her. After a moment, she thought of a comeback. "Are yours Kagome's?"
There was nothing more to say after that.
Sango didn't know it yet, but Miroku would come home bleeding that night. One of Naraku's minions would sink a knife in his hand at the market, sending a clear message to the inn owner: watch it.
After Miroku was hurt, Sango spent her days in agony, waiting for him to come home at night. She prepared herself for the worst even as she hoped it never happened.
As the days turned to weeks, she started to relax and enjoy her reprieve. There was no sign of Naraku anywhere; humor had it he was in Kyoto pursuing a geisha. Even though it was selfish, the inn owner was relieved.
She had grown fond of her three strange guests, having come to think of them as real friends. That was why, when Kagome left the inn to open her clinic, having finally found the perfect place, Sango felt a little sad. That was also why, when Inuyasha disappeared without saying goodbye, leaving Sango's payment under her bedroom door, she felt very sad.
"Good riddance," Koga grumbled upon hearing the news about his rival's departure. Secretly, Sango thought he was just a little sad, too.
Without Inuyasha around, Kagome showed up less than before, and Koga became less insistent in his attentions. It seemed part of his fondness for her had died with the thrill of the chase. The air between them was charged not with attraction, but sadness, and maybe regret for what could have been.
"Perhaps it isn't that, dear Sango," Miroku told her one night as they lay together in bed. "Give the man some credit. Maybe he just knows better now." He gently combed her bangs away from her eyes with his fingers. "Kagome has never been so sad."
"If I were her," Sango mused, feeling one of Miroku's hands caress the small bun in her belly, "I would go after the man I love."
He sighed, pulling her to his chest. "You don't know what it's like, Sango. Living on the road." Miroku seemed suddenly distant, even though she was plastered to him. "No woman or child should live like that." He paused. "Out there, you do what you have to survive."
Sango kissed the first thing within her reach, which happened to be his adam's apple. "I'm saying I would go after you," she insisted against his skin. He'll need to shave soon. "Whether you wanted it or not."
"Since when are you so romantic, dearest?" Miroku teased. "Why, I thought you were a woman made of steel!"
"I was," she murmured, looking up to peck his nose. "Until a certain merchant showed up nearly dead on my door, asking to stay for free."
He bit her chin. "What a scoundrel, taking advantage of you like that."
To her shame, Sango's arms were already quivering. "At least he stayed with me," she got out, her voice quaking. A sharp tug on her hair made her laugh. "I meant married me."
She didn't get to say anything after that.
One night, their peace was disturbed when Koga walked through the door, fully dressed in his blue uniform, scowling.
Sango, Miroku, Kohaku and Kagome, who happened to be visiting, all got up immediately.
"Matsumoto Naraku's dead," he told them promptly, standing in front of Sango. "I just got the news from my superior." His knuckles were white on the handle of his saber. "That stupid Inuyasha killed him!"
Sango only realized she had lost her balance when she felt Miroku's arm around her waist.
"B-But why? How?" She asked, shaking her head a little. "I don't understand!" He can't have done this for me. It makes no sense.
Koga started pacing, his scowl deepening. "Three days ago, Naraku killed a geisha in Kyoto. Looks like he'd been chasing the woman for years, but she refused him one time too many." He snorted. "The bastard." Koga turned to Kagome, his expression softening minutely. "They called her Kikyo. Inuyasha knew her." He looked away with a sardonic smile, clicking his tongue. "That Inuyasha—he only came here to kill Matsumoto."
"For her sake?" Miroku asked, frowning. "Do you think he tried?"
"That's what the witness claimed to know." Koga shrugged, looking tired. "Tsubaki—another geisha from Kikyo's okiya. She was in Naraku's hotel room with him when Inuyasha showed up."
Hearing Kagome's ragged breaths, Sango held the doctor's hand and squeezed it. "And what happened to him?" She asked cautiously. "Inuyasha, I mean."
Koga stared at Kagome, biting the inside of his cheek. "Tsubaki called the police. They found Inuyasha leaving the hotel." Koga frowned. Probably sensing Kagome's rising panic, he quickly added, "He escaped."
But he's a wanted man.
Sango couldn't seem to connect herself with reality; everything was happening too fast. Naraku is dead. Inuyasha killed him. Inuyasha is a wanted man.
"That idiot jeopardized everything!" Koga yelled, massaging his temples. "I actually came here to arrest Matsumoto." He cursed under his breath. "I was so damn close! After all the time I spent chasing the asshole, gathering evidence… "
Sango could only gape at him. Koga had escaped Naraku's radar. They had both completely underestimated him.
Like a wolf in sheep's clothing.
"I'll go back to the clinic," Kagome stated out of the blue, sounding strained. "Maybe if I stay there—maybe he'll—" She stopped short, snapping her jaw.
Oh, Kagome, Sango thought sadly. She knew the doctor was hoping Inuyasha would make contact, maybe even show up, but Sango wasn't sure he would. If life were a fairytale, Kagome would leave at once for Kyoto, maybe with a bow in hand. Reality was different, though: Inuyasha could be anywhere, and she had her patients to take care of.
I told Miroku I would go after him, Sango thought, but in Kagome's situation, I don't think I would.
"I'll escort you home, Miss Higurashi," Koga said quietly, avoiding Kagome's eyes. The awkwardness between them was awful, painful even.
Feeling miserable, Sango watched as Koga led Kagome away, their shoulders slumped. Neither one seemed to be doing what they really wanted.
"Do you think Koga knows I was Naraku's accomplice?" Sango asked Miroku as he made dinner for them.
He stopped cutting the vegetables. "It's possible." Miroku sighed. "But I don't think he'd ever tell anyone." He gave her a look. "Just as I don't think Inuyasha would simply forget us."
Sango fiddled with her apron, looking at her feet. "Poor Kagome. I thought—" She shook her head. "I think Inuyasha likes her, but it's obvious he loves another."
"In that case, poor Inuyasha too," Miroku remarked, getting back to the food. "The woman he loves is dead, and he can't be with the one he likes." She thought she could hear his brows furrowing. "I don't think he could be with the geisha, either."
Sango felt sorry for everyone involved, even the woman she never knew. She couldn't remember caring for many people's suffering in her life… She wasn't used to how it hurt.
Maybe sensing her mood, Miroku half turned and grinned at her. "But he's a stubborn one. He'll come back, you'll see."
Sango caught herself smiling. Stepping closer to Miroku, she hugged his back. "I wish I had your faith." Looking up, she gently blew on the nape of his neck, smiling when he shivered. Getting serious again, she confessed, "If Inuyasha hadn't done it, I think I would have."
There was silence for a heartbeat. Then, Miroku turned in Sango's arms to face her. Cupping her cheeks, he leaned down to touch his lips to hers.
"If Matsumoto had threatened our happiness," he whispered against her parted mouth, "I would have done it, wife."
"Weren't you raised by a Buddhist monk?" She teased, relishing the feeling of his eyelashes brushing her skin.
"And didn't I say I'm not very religious?" He returned, smiling.
I can't believe this man knocked on my door, Sango marveled, kissing him.
They didn't have Naraku to worry about anymore, but they still had a child on the way, the inn was doing bad, and they would have to struggle a lot to make ends meet.
Thinking about all this, not to mention their friends' situation, Sango realized they might never truly get their happy ending—but damn her if they weren't going to be happy along the way.
A/N: I'm sorry if any historical inaccuracies happened here. I didn't get into much detail to avoid those, but you never know, right?
Thanks for reading, and please, review!