Kusarigama

By Starzki

Chapter One: Kanashimi

-x-

The sun was hot that day. It was so hot and bright out, in fact, that Sango interrupted her work in organizing and patching up the village's armory in order to find a straw hat to protect her face and head from the midday sun. While nailing up boards to cover the holes in the wall of the weapons' house, she began contemplating the pros and cons of tearing down the old wall and just starting it again, fresh. But her sun-fuzzed brain was incapable of any thought apart from, It's time to take a break and drink some nice, cool water.

Sango finally decided to not fight the temptation to rest any more. Dropping the hammer and scrap pieces of wood, she made her way over to the well in the center of town. She had drawn up the bucket that morning and placed it in the shade knowing how thirsty these long summer days filled with work made her.

To make matters worse, she was alone. Miroku was supposed to return sometime in the next few days, but she was beginning to get anxious to see him again. He was her husband and she missed him.

Husband.

Sango still had trouble wrapping her mind around the fact that she was married. It had been six months since their wedding, seven months since they had all defeated Naraku, and two-and-a-half years since she had joined that strange little group to begin with. But she still sometimes stuttered when she introduced Miroku as her husband.

And he was actually turning out to be a better husband than she could have wished.

That fact, alone, didn't surprise Sango all that much. She knew he was a wonderful man; that's why she had married him. But she was a little surprised at how little things had changed in the way they tackled life after Naraku. They were still a team, partners.

Miroku had agreed that they should settle in the old demon slayers' village and see if they could rebuild it. They usually worked together to make the homes livable: clearing out debris, reallocating supplies and furniture to each dwelling, gathering scrap and other remnants of destruction to refashion into material they could use again. Their goal was to make it as easy as possible for those who wanted to move into that village to get settled.

Whenever they ran out of supplies or just needed to see other people, they would often travel together to nearby villages to make trades and purchases and to spread the word that they slayers' village was being rehabilitated. They also let it be known that they were available for hire as demon slayers, themselves.

However, with the recent abundance of sunshine, Sango was loath to leave the village when so much work could be done. So, recently, Miroku had journeyed without Sango. At first, Sango had been nervous, but she had made herself trust in his fidelity and she hadn't been disappointed. Also, since Kirara accompanied Miroku, Sango knew that he would lose any appendage that came too close to inappropriately touching another woman.

Besides, they were discovering that absence did make their hearts grow fonder and the nights after the few days apart had become some of her favorite times.

Wrinkling her nose at the unpleasant smell of scorching grass and burning dust, Sango took a long drink of water from the bucket's ladle. Temporarily refreshed, she brought a finger to her mouth and hoped fervently that Miroku would be back soon. She was anticipating having another one of those nights again.

In the beginning, Sango had briefly worried that her new husband had turned her into a pervert, too. She had discovered that she was every bit as eager to make love with him on their wedding night as he had been. It was a little shocking to her, the strength of that desire to be as close to him as she could physically be. She had expected to feel shy and modest about the whole thing, but after so much time and so much hope and so many promises, she was more than ready when the time came. Everything had been right. Everything had felt right (well, more than right, more like outstanding). After overcoming so many obstacles, they had finally been able to indulge in some for their well-deserved reward.

Sango absently bit a nail as she gazed down the main path of the village and daydreamed of Miroku. The intense sun made watery mirages and cast about illusions in the dappled and inconstant shade of the villages' few trees. In fact, the bright sun and the tricks it was playing on her eyes caused Sango to start at the image of Miroku coming down the path toward the well. She smiled to herself, allowing her eyes to remain on the unsteady and billowy figure because she wanted so badly for the illusion to be real.

After about a minute of staring at the image, she realized that it was steadily growing stronger. It was real. Miroku was home.

"Houshi-sama!" she yelled, throwing aside the ugly straw hat and trying to make her hair look more presentable, all while sprinting towards her husband. "Kirara!" she added, realizing upon seeing the demon cat in her large form how much she'd missed her feline companion as well.

Miroku carefully set down the basket he had been carrying and opened his arms wide. He smiled as Sango launched herself at him. He caught her and swung her around. The whole time Sango was planting little kisses on his face and giggling.

Miroku righted Sango on her feet, brushed all the stray hair away from her face, pulled her to him, and kissed her soundly, savoring her taste. The effect of the kiss was the same as always, the same as that first time. Bright light exploded behind closed eyelids and warm tremors shot through their bodies, stealing their breaths, and making them terribly aware of their own heartbeats.

Sango laughed again, delighted that Miroku was back so early, and she kissed him noisily on the mouth before pushing him away and bending to embrace Kirara who was patiently waiting her turn for Sango's attention and affection.

"I guess you missed us a little," laughed Miroku.

"Nah," lied Sango. "I barely noticed you were gone." She straightened and embraced Miroku again, squeezing him as tightly as she could.

"We missed you, too, Sango," said Miroku.

Sango continued to hold him. "Did you hear anything?" she asked finally.

"No," Miroku said with some sadness in his voice. "But I put the word out. We'll keep looking. We'll find Kohaku." Along with spreading the word that the demon slayers' village was ready for work and new inhabitants, Sango and Miroku asked everyone they came across if they had heard anything about Kohaku, explaining that he may not have any memory prior to the time of Naraku's defeat.

Sango pulled away and tried not to look too sad. "I'm glad you're back," she said finally, willing the smile to her face.

"I'm glad I have a place to come home to," Miroku said softly and with some emotion.

Sango took Miroku's elbow, ready to steer him toward their home where they could eat and talk out of the glare of the bright sun. But she paused when she noticed the basket Miroku had been carrying. This was a trip he had taken to spread information and to ask about Kohaku, not one where he was supposed to bring something back.

"What's that?" asked Sango.

"It's for you," answered Miroku. "It's to keep you company whenever Kirara and I have to travel."

Sango peeled away the basket's cloth covering and gasped loudly. She brought her hand to her mouth and looked at Miroku with moist eyes.

"A puppy?" she managed to whisper and squeal at the same time. An aspect of elation spread across her features as Sango clapped softly and looked down at the sleeping black bundle of fur.

Miroku smiled back at her, glad that she was excited about her present.

Suddenly Sango was full of questions. "How old? Boy or girl? Have you named it?"

"He's a boy, just weaned. So he's about eight or nine weeks old. I was going to let you name him."

Sango gently picked up the lethargic puppy. He was a ball of warm softness. She could instantly tell that his fuzzy black puppy fur would stiffen and become sleek. His paws were enormous, promising he would grow to become a large dog. She brought the puppy to her face and kissed his short nose that would lengthen as he aged. She smelled the unique smell that wasn't exactly pleasant, yet could never be called unpleasant, either.

"He has puppy breath!" she exclaimed, nuzzling him into her neck as he shifted and tried to become comfortable in the heat and smells of a new situation.

"What do you think we should call him?" asked Miroku.

Sango brought the dog up to her face and watched with a growing smile as he sleepily opened his eyes and stared back at her. When he finally yawned, exhibiting his pink curling tongue and tiny teeth, Sango laughed and again looked at Miroku with misty eyes.

"Kanashimi," she decided.

Miroku paused. The name was odd, but seemed somehow fitting. "Kanashimi? It's such a sad name."

"Yes," averred Sango. "Whenever fate or whatever or whomever sees fit to dole out sorrow to people, and gets to us, they can say, 'Miroku and Sango already have Kanashimi in their life. They obviously don't need any more.' And he's obviously a very serious dog. He needs a serious name," she ended lightly.

"Yes," Miroku agreed. They already had enough of the bad kind of sorrow in their life. The ball of fluff that was Kanashimi could do nothing but stave off future sorrow from the powers that be from any more. Or so he hoped.

"Well, what do you say we get Kanashimi out of this blaring sun and into his new home?" said Miroku.

Sango snuggled the puppy again. "An inside dog?"

"Yes. I think he'll be good practice for us for when we finally become parents of our own kids," Miroku answered with a chuckle, wrapping his arms around Sango and kissing her ear, making her squeal with delight.

Sango and Miroku all but ran back to their home and began to shed their clothes as soon as they hit the door to their small house. Kanashimi was a little jostled when Sango set him down on a small mat near the bed. He sleepily regarded the new room. It was pleasantly dark to his sensitive and tired eyes. The new smells were pleasant and lived-in, obviously a place of established masters who could be counted on for care. But more than that, he felt an extraordinary amount of love in the air, similar to the care he had felt from his mother as she nursed and cared for his brothers and sisters. The noises here were strange, though, as they vibrated through the increasingly humid room. An odd singing was coming from his new human masters as they moved in synchronization on the slightly elevated mat. But the singing was nice, if a little sad, and the puppy decided that he didn't mind it. The sounds were low and loving, perfect accompaniment to fall asleep to that day and any day. So he made his way over to the discarded robes of his new master, pawed it into a kind of nest, turned around a few times on his new makeshift bed, and instantly fell asleep.

-x-

Kanashimi proved to be good luck. The day after his introduction to Miroku and Sango's family, two new couples moved into the village. All had some fighting experience and wanted to make their livings honing their skill and slaying evil and destructive demons.

As the months wore on and summer finally exhausted itself and autumn fell, individuals, couples and families trickled into the village. Sango and Miroku suddenly had help in repairing the village and rebuilding its reputation.

Sango took control of training all of the fighters in weaponry and technique used in demon combat. She was generally well respected throughout the village, her reputation and lineage making her the natural leader of the new band of slayers.

Miroku kept traveling, but a little less often. He trained with the other exterminators, but also wanted to do something that honored his own training. He decided to make a space within the village a spiritual domain. While he still wore his priestly robes and believed in all the same tenants of Buddhism as he did as an itinerant monk, he was a little unsure of his place within the monastic community. But he felt that that making a shrine, a place of worship, which incorporated all of his early teachings was something he had to do. However, he felt uncomfortable leading spiritual rituals for people within his community. He had never been much of a monk, even with his spiritual powers. And even as his life had changed toward the more upstanding, he couldn't deny he did not follow his teachings as well as he should. It felt hypocritical, being a spiritual leader to those he accepted as neighbors, but it was something he assumed he would work out with time.

As winter approached, both Sango and Miroku noticed the changes in Kanashimi. He grew exponentially, it seemed. When he was four months old, the top of his head was level with Sango's hip as he stood by her side. Every day, Kanashimi lost some of his puppy appearance and gained some training of his own.

Four months after Kanashimi's introduction to their small family, when he was six months old, small routines became established. The night the messenger showed up at their door was no exception.

The few hours between dinnertime and bedtime generally became playtime with Kanashimi so that he could work off all of his puppy energy and so that Sango and Miroku could rest after long days filled with hard work.

That night, the night of the messenger, Miroku and Sango were teasing Kanashimi by throwing a large ball of string that Kanashimi adopted as his own toy back and forth, not allowing the puppy to get a hold of it. Sango laughed at the desperately pleading looks Kanashimi would give her to persuade her to give him the ball. He even resorted to his repertoire of tricks to show off to Sango how good and smart he was and that he obviously deserved the ball. Above all things in the world, Kanashimi wanted to please Sango; he was almost desperate to please her.

This was because Sango was the disciplinarian. When she was mad, he cowered in shame for whatever indiscretion angered her. When she praised him in his training, the puppy managed to strut with pride and joy. But currently, he only wanted the ball. Instead of further teasing the puppy, Sango threw the ball across the room for him to fetch.

Unfortunately, Sango threw it toward the napping Kirara. After tearing across the room to retrieve the ball, Kanashimi abruptly became distracted by the reflexive twitching of the small fire cat's twin tails. Kanashimi skidded to a stop, looked left and right, sprinted a lap around the perimeter of the room to pick up speed and pounced on Kirara, nipping at an ear. Kirara was not unused to such attention from the puppy, but that did not make her happy about it.

For her own part, Kirara also was involved in Kanashimi's upbringing. Kirara mothered the puppy as if he were one of her kittens. When he was small, Kirara would carry him around by his scruff and deposit him out of the way, but under her watchful eye. Kanashimi never felt lonely for his own mother because he always could curl up with her in her larger form and be lulled to sleep by her steady heartbeat and breathing. Kirara also helped to keep the mischievous puppy in line. Any annoying teasing from the dog while she was in her large or small form would result in an immediate and clawed reprimand by the demon cat. But Kirara enjoyed Kanashimi's playfulness and often encouraged some of his minor disobedient behavior.

But not this time. Kirara awoke with a fierce growl that ended in a menacing hiss. As far as she was concerned, Kanashimi needed to learn the importance of letting fire cats get their necessary post-dinner beauty nap. A small whoosh resounded, which Kanashimi knew was the precursor to Kirara transforming into her larger self and batting him on the head for being such a bad puppy.

Therefore, at the sound, Kanashimi sprinted behind the seated Miroku and pressed up against his back, trembling slightly. Kanashimi peered fearfully over Miroku's shoulder to see that the sound had been a mere threat and that Kirara was curling up to nap once again. Miroku chuckled and scratched the now chastised dog behind his ears, which earned him a relieved nuzzle to his shoulder.

Miroku was the one Kanashimi ran to in order to be consoled or comforted when upset or scared. It reminded Sango a little of how Shippou would act after being tormented by Inuyasha, running to Miroku for protection. Miroku made a lousy dog trainer, though. His patience and knowledge were endless, but he often tried reasoning with the pup no matter how many times Sango reminded him that Kanashimi did not understand his words. His voice was too soothing and understanding for the puppy to know exactly when and how he had done something wrong.

Both Miroku and Sango laughed as Kanashimi regained his courage and remembered the game they had been playing. He crept as stealthily as he could to retrieve the ball of yarn from next to Kirara. After gently lifting it without further rousing the cat, he trotted happily over to Sango and dropped the ball in her lap, ready to resume their play.

It was worth all the exasperation of raising a puppy to live with Kanashimi. He made Sango laugh. And when Sango laughed, Miroku and Kirara were glad and happy as well. Kanashimi could tear around, evincing his "puppy crazies," as Sango called them, then turn over onto his back and grin up at whoever was closest with his tongue lolling on the ground with an expression that just begged laugher from everyone around.

Highly contrary to his name, Kanashimi was an unserious puppy that encouraged joy and mirth in his adoptive family. He only grew serious among strangers, feeling the desperate need to protect his family. But alone with them, he acted silly and young enough to remind them of the time before their too-short childhoods ended.

The levity he brought to the room was well needed that late autumn evening because it would be the last time in a while that they would be relaxed and at peace in their new home.

-x-

Outside their house, a chill wind, fragrant with burning fires and baking food, bit the air and howled around small houses as the messenger strode up the main walkway of the village. After a few questions to the people he met in the small town's center, the young man made his way to Miroku and Sango's hut.

After rapping sharply on the doorframe, the messenger encountered a completely black, huge, skinny, growling dog. Immediately afterward, the mistress of the house commanded the dog to sit, which he did instantly an obediently. Sango asked the young man what his business was as she was joined at the doorway by her husband.

"I have heard you are looking for a young man who does not remember his past."

Sango and Miroku's eyes lit up briefly before becoming guarded. They had been let down by false hopes before.

"Yes?" Sango asked hesitantly.

The messenger replied, "My master, on his travels to Mount Fuji, encountered a young man who did not remember his past. This young man impressed my master with his fighting and athletic skill. Then, upon my master's return home, he heard word that you two were looking for a young man that matched this very description. He sent me to tell you all that he knows."

Sango looked to Miroku with worried expectation in her eyes. She was afraid to hope too strongly that this could be her brother, after all this time. But she was even more reluctant to give up hope that he could be found.

"What do you know, exactly?" asked Miroku. He would need to be strong and steady for Sango, who was strong on her own concerning all subjects except that of her brother.

"Just that this young man was the ward of an alchemist in a lower altitude village on the East face of Mount Fuji. There is but one such village. The young man was very skilled with the kusarigama. This kusarigama."

The messenger then held out the weapon for Miroku and Sango to see.

Sango took in a deep breath and took the sickle and chain. "It's his," she said finally. "He fashioned the handle himself. It bears his mark. How did your master come to possess it?" she asked the messenger.

"The young man said he had no further use for weapons. He was forsaking fighting and would rather die than have to take another life. He liked my master for his kindness and thought he would take good care of his weapon and not let it fall into the hands of those who would misuse it. When my master came home and heard of the houshi and demon exterminator who were seeking this young man, he sent me at once. He asked me to give the weapon to you."

Sango was speechless. Miroku was too, for a few seconds. Then he asked the messenger to come in and have a warm drink. Both he and Sango wanted to hear everything this young man on their doorstep had to say. They wanted to hear it twice.

They would find Kohaku and bring him home. That night would mark the beginning of their next journey.

TO BE CONTINUED.

Author's Note (a.k.a. giving appropriate credits): I'm writing again, I guess. I respond well to reverse psychology, even from myself. The very next thought after Maybe I'll stop writing fanfics was: My next fanfic will be…

Anyway, I need to acknowledge some sources for this story:

First, I was reading John Irving's Hotel New Hampshire while outlining this story and anyone who has read it will see its influence on this fic. First, I named the black Labrador Sorrow. I don't know if they had black Labs in Japan, but they might have a mutt that would look like one, so that's what he is. I originally planned to name the puppy an equally inappropriate descriptive noun, but Sorrow fit just as well, if not better. I'll try not to be so heavy handed in the use of Sorrow as a metaphor. He's just a normal dog. Also influenced by Hotel is the euphemism of singing being the sound people make during sex. I just thought it was pretty and, again, it fit. It's not my invention, but I'm also not using it in exactly the same way. (Let me also say that I will not officially recommend The Hotel New Hampshire. It's kind of disturbing, plot-wise. I love, adore, and worship the book, but you kind of have to be into John Irving to fully get it. Let's just say that if you loved The World According to Garp, I would recommend Hotel.)

Second, this story is also a result of reading Personification of Fluff's Complete and Unconditional, Lady of Ithilien's Lingering Ghosts (seriously, go out and read and review that awesome story), and whatever other stories I know I'm forgetting that show Miroku and Sango post Naraku, post marriage and manage to keep it interesting. I hope my story even approaches all those great fics.

Finally, this story is a result of all of those other MirSan lovers out there who read my stories and write their own terrific fics. I'm talking especially about Aamalie, who I'm sure is reading this right now, Iggy, Aprill May, and all of the others (you know who you are) who make me actually want to write for this particular community because I know there is some kind of constant support for good writing in it. All of you make me try and be a better writer, so thank you. I'm going to try and cut out future author's notes or specific replies to reviews unless it's something necessary to understanding the story. Just know that I appreciate any thoughts, ideas, praise, and constructive criticism that I get. So thanks in advance.

This will be a long one (I mean the story, not the author's note, ha ha :-P). Longer than any of my fics to date. It's all plotted out and I hope my notoriously short writing attention span will hold out so that I will actually finish it. Updates will come as soon as I can write them. I'm a busy girl, so they might not be common, but I'll do the best I can.

TTFN.