Disclaimer: The characters of Inuyasha are not mine.

Note: This story is for the lovely and talented Lucinda the Maid. I hope you enjoy it.

The Peephole

By Starzki

-x-

The confluence of events that evening seemed specifically tailored to make Sango as mortified as possible. She had never realized it before, but constant blushing was exhausting.

Sango could come up with no other explanation for her odd behavior that night than she had too tired to put up a proper fight.

-x-

The storm blew down from the hills with a wicked, malicious ferocity.

The freezing winds were amazing. Each step taken, one had to concentrate and exert a surprising effort to place the foot where it should go. The wind threatened to put the seasoned walkers off their path.

The rain was cold and stinging. It was impossible to tell whether or not their clothes were completely soaked because the chill weather had made their skin numb to all but the dull pain of the cold.

Kagome scooped up Shippou and Sango held Kirara in the crook of her elbow because the weather was too much for the little demons.

"We have to find some shelter, Inuyasha," Kagome yelled over the wind shrieking past their ears.

Inuyasha didn't respond, but his frown deepened. He didn't want to alter their course. The weather wasn't that bad.

Yet, within minutes, when the cherry-sized hail began to fall, even Inuyasha ran toward the large rooming house at the bottom of the hill.

It turned out that they were fortunate to find it; it was the only shelter within miles.

However, it also turned out to be a rather large brothel.

Additionally, it turned out that an impressively sized cadre of palace soldiers in a nearby training camp had also run to the nearest shelter when the weather turned foul.

It also turned out that most of those soldiers had had money in their purses.

-x-

After the group realized the business that the establishment they had just entered was offering (based on catcalls to both Inuyasha and Miroku by loosely robed women), the only thing that prevented Sango from pulling the group out of the brothel by the ears was because the storm still raged outside.

Miroku emptied the coin purse he carried on behalf of the group on the floor. The manager announced that he could only spare two rooms for the night for that small amount of money.

An inebriated soldier who had mistaken Kagome for one of the more exotically clothed prostitutes ended any initial plans to split the rooms by gender. Inuyasha hustled Kagome and Shippou into the room located furthest away from the main floor where most "business" was occurring.

This left Sango and Miroku with the only room left in the entire building that was not currently being used for more private matters.

The aging wife of the manager escorted them to the room, explaining that it was actually a large closet. This was how the group could afford to rent two rooms with barely enough money to rent one.

Sango's face, which had been a merry shade of pink when she initially entered the brothel, was steadily deepening into a dark red as they navigated its hallways, listening to the barely muffled coos, cries, and bawdy language taking place behind the thin walls.

Upon being shown the door, the old woman warned them, "You are next door to Screaming Nezumi. Don't be alarmed by the noise. We're nearly sure she's faking."

Miroku's eyes widened and he shot a questioning look at the woman bending to unlock the door to their room.

The old woman rolled her eyes, "She says she can't help it. I don't judge, but it has happened more than once that men she was attending to have fainted with shock at the loud cries that come from such a small woman."

A slow grin started on Miroku's face, then immediately faded as hysterical shrieks from the next room commenced. It sounded as though Screaming Nezumi was being tortured.

"Ah, she's nearly done," explained the woman.

"She'll do this all night?" asked Sango, blanching.

"If we're lucky, she will. Men pay extra for her," was the answer.

At just that moment, a prostitute passed the three in the hallway. She stole a glace at Miroku and giggling. Sango, who had paled somewhat at the screams from her new neighbor, reddened anew – with anger. She straightened her back, causing the Hiraikotsu to shift and its corner to catch Miroku in the head.

This peeved Miroku for many reasons. First, Sango knew that he was wholly committed to his relationship with her. Second, Sango knew that he was happy that they were to spend their lives together. Third, Sango knew that he wouldn't cheapen their future together on a fling with a lady of the night.

In any case, Sango knew that he was broke.

-x-

Sango and Miroku squeezed into the criminally small room. Kirara jumped down to the floor and positioned herself in the corner, beginning the process of licking herself dry. Miroku rubbed the side of his head, wishing to goad the sharp pains from Sango's Hiraikotsu into a duller pain.

Sango sat on the floor and covered her face with her hands. She enjoyed the coolness of her palms against her burning cheeks. She was sure that her face was close to blistering, it felt so hot.

"It was an accident, Houshi-sama," she explained without looking up.

"Hmm," he replied. He did not sound convinced.

The room had no bed, no blankets, and not enough room to stretch flat. But it was warm and dry.

The nub of a candle that the old lady had been able to give them barely shed enough light to illuminate all four walls of what Sango guessed was previously a linen closet.

After her tongue bath, Kirara tucked herself into a corner of the room farthest away from Screaming Nezumi's cries.

Sango and Miroku settled themselves as best as they could. Both were too decent to shrug off their soaking clothes, no matter the lack of light to see one another. The damp made them itchy and uncomfortable. This made them restless and unwilling to engage the other in immediate conversation.

The candle began to sputter, so Miroku snuffed it, hoping he wasn't too late to save some light if they needed it later that night.

The room grew humid with the heat and wetness of its occupants. It was a rare moment of quiet between Screaming Nezumi's clients. It would be more than a few moments before the room's occupants noticed the uncomfortable climate. Something else suddenly absorbed all of their attention.

Neither Miroku nor Sango could take their eyes off of the one source of light entering the room. It was coming from a small hole in the wall that they shared with Screaming Nezumi's room.

From a seated position, this hole was perfectly at eye level.

-x-

Sango was glad for the dark. Miroku probably knew that Sango blushed a fiery red every time Nezumi started her act with every new customer, but she was happy that he had no real visual confirmation.

As far as Sango could tell, Screaming Nezumi managed to see two or three customers every hour. There was generally five minutes of soft whispering, ten minutes of shuffling and grunting, five minutes of screaming, then a ten minute break between customers.

Miroku had glanced through the peephole when the screaming had begun the first time. But before Sango could say anything about it, he quickly returned to his place on the floor.

"Just making sure he's not killing her," Miroku said by way of an explanation.

Sango didn't feel as though she had any reason to chastise him because all of the noises from the next room made Sango feel unexpectedly curious. Nezumi sounded like whatever was happening to her was something either very good or very bad.

The blood pounding to Sango's face made her feel dizzy. She needed a distraction from the noise. Anything to make her stop picturing what was occurring next door.

"I can't believe I'm stuck here with you," she despaired.

Miroku chuffed out a sardonic laugh. "I'd volunteer to switch rooms with Inuyasha, but I don't think he trusts me with Kagome any more than you trust me with prostitutes."

Sango turned her head sharply to where Miroku sat. "That's not what I meant," she said defensively. "You can't deny that you enjoy seeing me flustered. I can just picture you sitting over there laughing at me and my embarrassment."

Miroku was silent for a few moments. Then he spoke. "It's true that it is appealing for me to see someone who is usually so calm and together become exactly the opposite because of a few words or gestures."

"Humph."

"But it isn't enjoyable for more than a few moments. And it isn't enjoyable when I'm not the one who is making you react. I'm not laughing at you. I promise."

Sango sighed. Finally, she said, "Okay. I'm just so uncomfortable here. And I didn't mean to imply that I didn't trust you around prostitutes. I'm sorry I accidentally bumped you, Houshi-sama," she ventured.

"It was an accident?" Miroku asked, disbelieving.

"Well, mostly," Sango admitted. Her annoyance with Miroku began to evaporate, allowing her to relax a little. This allowed her body to stop blushing at every little sound that came from the next room.

Time passed. Sango still flushed with every customer she could hear, but the intensity of her embarrassment was beginning to wane. Her curiosity, however, was increasing.

Sango couldn't take her eyes off the peephole and time seemed to slow. She finally had to have some of her curiosity satisfied, no matter the unwanted information she might discover.

"Houshi-sama?"

"Hmm?"

"What are they whispering about? You know…before?"

"Why would you expect that I would know?" he answered.

"I'm not so naïve to think you've never been to a place like this. Even if you've never spent money, I'm sure that you would know what goes on. I can figure out the other sounds, but why is there whispering?"

"I would suspect," Miroku started carefully, "they are discussing their terms."

"Terms?"

"Money. Time. I've also heard," Miroku spoke carefully once again, "that prostitutes have rules for the men that hire them."

"Really?" asked Sango, genuinely interested. "I always thought that men do whatever they wanted with these women."

"I suppose that is sometimes true," said Miroku. "But I also know that prostitutes often have things they will refuse to do with men who buy them. Sometimes, it could be just something so bizarre that they won't even do it, no matter the money. Sometimes, it's just something that they will only do with men they have romantic relationships with."

"Oh," said Sango, processing the information. "What won't they do with customers?"

"It depends. Some sexual positions, various kinds of vulgar language."

Sango blushed again.

"Also," continued Miroku, "it could be something as simple as kissing. Some prostitutes won't kiss on the mouth because they feel that is something that people do when they are in love."

"Really? It seems like such a simple thing to refuse to do."

"You think it's simple?"

"In a way, yes. Prostitutes are also selling something that I assume I will find more meaningful than a kiss. I guess I have trouble understanding how they can put a price on one thing, but not the other," argued Sango.

"They sell the act, not the emotion. For women who sell sex, most times it is important for them to differentiate business from true affection that they may feel for a lover. It is the simple gestures that most genuinely express affection and emotions between two people who want to live their lives together."

"Hmm…" Sango sounded thoughtful again.

Miroku explained himself further. "It is like when you allow me to hold your hand or put my arm around you. We made a promise to one another. When you allow me to show my affection for you physically, doesn't it mean something to you?"

"Well, yes…"

"They sell sex. While that is intensely meaningful to those who are in love, it is something that prostitutes also have to put a price on. They can refuse a kiss because most men want the sex more than they want to kiss. Therefore, for the prostitute, the kiss can hold another significance. It can be the way that they show genuine affection. It is what they keep special for the ones they love."

"Love?" asked Sango, genuinely surprised.

"These women aren't really so different from you. They are prostitutes for a lot of different reasons. Some have families or husbands who need money, and they are sold into this life. Some are paying off their own debts. Some have had hard lives are just trying to make enough money to survive," continued Miroku. "It doesn't mean they don't want the same things that other women want."

"I didn't mean to sound judgmental, Houshi-sama," Sango said softly. "I'm really not. But I'm also glad that I have options other than prostitution to keep me alive. I wouldn't want to do this."

"I know," said Miroku. "I think it's a hard life."

"Do you know if these women ever get out of this life? If they ever find romance? Find that someone they been saving kissing for?"

"I don't know. But I hope so."

With those words, Sango felt something inside her chest melt just a little bit. Further conversation with Miroku was impossible because Nezumi began the noisy stage of entertaining her latest customer.

-x-

An hour later, Sango suspected that her clothes weren't any drier. It also seemed that Miroku had used his considerable capacity for concentration to meditate. He ignored the noise from next door and the even sound of his breathing made Sango think that he was sleeping.

She envied him that. Her curiosity about Screaming Nezumi only increased after talking to Miroku. More than the physical acts that were occurring, Sango was even more interested in the life Nezumi lived and what possessed her to shriek so loudly.

The warmth and humidity of the room, the noises from the neighbor, and Miroku's sweet words all swirled together in Sango's mind along with her embarrassment, curiosity, and hormones. The combination made her fidget and wiggle closer to the peephole.

The light moaning and grunting was picking up pace and Sango knew that it was moments from the beginning of Screaming Nezumi's crescendo.

Sango held her breath and stole a glance at Miroku's dark and hidden form. Then she turned as slowly and soundlessly as possible to press her eye to the peephole.

She peered in.

The comparatively bright light from the next room disoriented her for a moment. She squinted and was able to see movement.

The lamps shined down on an active couple on the bed. It took Sango considerable time to distinguish legs from arms from other body parts in the jerky movements on the bed.

Sango sank back to the floor, unimpressed.

It was all so mechanical. And the human body is really quite hairy. It wasn't attractive. Sango decided that Screaming Nezumi must be a great actress to sound so convincing so late into the night. She probably deserved more than she earned.

Sango was still too restless to sleep.

She stole glances at Miroku's dark form. He had been the one to impress her that night.

He hadn't spent the night ogling through the peephole, as she suspected he would when it first came to her attention. He didn't make bawdy jokes or try to further fluster or embarrass her. He had even defended women like Nezumi and gotten her to see life through another person's eyes. It was like a peephole into another hidden aspect of life and society she hadn't known before. It was intriguing.

Sango was still glad that she wasn't a prostitute. She was even more glad that her life, as hard as it had been, had been such that a career of prostitution would probably never be an option.

And Sango was glad that she agreed to spend her life with Miroku. As much as she second guessed that decision when the monk was thoughtless or conniving, he was still a smart man and a good man. She chose well when she chose him.

Sango looked at Miroku. He still seemed to be sleeping.

On all fours, Sango crept over to him, seated in his usual fashion with his back to the wall, and let her eyes adjust until she could see the outline of his face. His eyes were closed.

As softly as she could, so that he wouldn't awake if he was sleeping, she brushed her lips over his. They so rarely got to show physical affection toward one another, she wanted to take advantage when the opportunity presented itself.

It was a kiss that expressed her real feelings. And when it was over, she knew there was no way she could ever have put a price on it. Then, having acted on some of the emotions stirring within her, she was able to cross back to the other side of the room and sleep.

It was too dark to see Miroku's small smile. He would happily wait for the day when Sango wanted to kiss him when she knew he was awake.

END.

Note 2: A special thanks to Scribefigaro for looking over it and offering his opinion.