Complete. 3021 word count

Pairing: Kagome x Sesshoumaru

Synopsis: Lately, Kagome has been preoccupied and withdrawn and the shard hunters are feeling the affects severely. So when Miroku finds her journal, he reads it in an attempt to find the cause of Kagome's disquiet. But problems of the heart are not so easy to mend.

Kagome's Journal

In the low light of a dying fire, an unusual group camped. Three humans, two youkai, and a hanyou slept, or nearly so, amongst the overlying boughs of the forest. One of their member, Miroku, stirred, observing the deceptive calm of his companions with bleary eyes.

It was the calm before the storm.

He sighed, slipping over to the lingering warmth of fire with shuffling feet and clatter from the rings of his staff. The marrow of his bones was aching, calf muscles pulling at the exertion. There was no chance of sleep now. Exhausted in both body and mind, yet there was no rest.

They were so close to their goal. Complete the Shikon and defeat Naraku.

In the circle of the fire, a neko-youkai lay curled in the warmth of her slumbering mistress, Sango. With a wrinkle of her nose, callused hands reached to smooth back the cream fur of the Kirara's tail that had swept into her face. Shadows played in dark circles under her eyes, while unbound hair lit golden pooled about her shoulders and back giving her an ethereal appearance. She was always beautiful, but tonight she was otherworldly.

Violet eyes skipped over the wide inky darkness beyond, absently stoking the fire. Signs of the day's exertions were plain; running several leagues from a taiyoukai camp had taken its toll.

It did not help that Inuyasha had mistakenly insulted them, after chasing a lower youkai into their midst. Suffice to say Inuyasha had some very nice bruising and, eventually, the taiyoukai had lost interest in the chase. But not before they had traversed half way across the countryside. Depending on how one looked, it was either good fortune or terrible coincidence that the band did not possess a Shikon shard.

A wry smile graced his lips.

To Sango's left, a clumsy pile of textbooks perched on a corner of Kagome's sleeping bag. The schoolgirl lay, haphazardly covered by the unusual silky material, arms and legs peeking out of the folds, with a leather-bound book splayed across her stomach. As perplexing as Kagome was, sleeping in such a manner was not common behaviour.

He looked to their silent sentinel, perched high in a tree on the opposite side of the clearing, sword in a familiar position of resting against the hanyou's shoulder. Understanding the monk's unspoken request Inuyasha scowled, promising retribution if Miroku stepped out of line, and muttered a distinctive, "Feh!" before turning his attention to the east.

Even though Inuyasha's eyes were elsewhere, he was no doubt paying close attention to any movement Miroku would make – a price for flirting with every beauty in sight. It was a tentative trust, for which Inuyasha was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Knowing to take what he was given, Miroku slipped to Kagome's side.

The overly large and bright yellow rucksack, sitting at the foot of Kagome's makeshift sleeping pallet, was soon promptly stuffed with worn textbooks, stray biros, and a few personal items. Miroku couldn't help but wonder why on earth she felt the need to pack so much. Her strange bag was bursting at the seams.

He fingered the leather cover of the book he held. It seemed important and would need a secure place.

Plucking a forgotten pen from behind her ear, he slipped her uncovered appendages back under the sleeping bag before tucking it under her chin, careful not to disturb Shippo, who slept at her side.

"Sleep well, Kagome-sama," he whispered, brushing back a stray lock of hair. A fugitive glance in Inuyasha's direction secured the hope that Miroku could still be found in the land of the living come morning.

Briefly, a thought of giving the same attentions to Sango in passed his mind, although quickly quashed his most recent injury from the endeavour. His un-gauntleted hand was still aching from where Sango had bitten him … in her sleep.

He winced as light fingers brushed over the tender skin. With no wish for further injury, he turned away from the youkai huntress with a dejected sigh.

Miroku pulled at the buckles and zippers of the bag, eyes open for a sufficient gap. He mused at the picture Kagome often made, nearly swallowed whole, waist deep, in search for odd items. It was a quite a view.

The rucksack was proving difficult. The zipper was stuck, a flick of his wrist and the book wedged under his arm fell to the ground with a plop.

Miroku glared at the bag. Stubborn contraption.

Book open, the clear white of the paper caught the light, stark against the ink strewn across the page. Kagome's handwriting was clear to see, and the passing glance he gave it Miroku recognised a few words, a strange phrase Kagome seemed fond of, and Inuyasha's name.

He frowned before dusting the cover and slipping it into the folds of his kesa.

Inuyasha's survey was still towards dawn as Miroku returned to his futile prodding of the fire, manoeuvring new twigs into the heart of the flame. There was small satisfaction as they were devoured by the heat, popping and crackling.

Determining it would last until morning he returned to his post. The base of the tree was an uncomfortable but it did offer a nice recline.

Crickets chirped, leaves rustled, the wind whispered through the canopy. Shallow breaths and the shifting of cloth were crisp to the ear. Music made by the forest, by the trees, by the living. No doubt beautiful, but an eerie stillness crept about his heart.

There was a trouble with silence, with the lull in occupation. Thoughts he would keep firmly under hand returned to tarry.

Miroku was concerned with the reserve Kagome had shown in past weeks.

She was distracted and forgetful, even with the simplest tasks. Gathering firewood alone, Kagome would wander, dinner was overcooked, she was tripping over her own feet, and klutz attacks were frequent.

Kagome was what bound them, their heart. Without Kagome, making it this far would have been impossible. It was surprising how the continuity of their little band depended on a single woman. With long off looks, followed by a despondent sigh and shuffling of feet, tempers were wearing thin.

Inuyasha was a prime example.

It was common for Inuyasha and Kagome to argue – sometimes Miroku suspected they enjoyed it – but with Inuyasha's confusion and frustration their verbal sparring matches had taken a turn for the worst. He knew Inuyasha could clearly see Kagome's fraying nerves, but it was hard to avoid her misplaced temper, the smallest thing set her off and Inuyasha was far too stubborn not to respond in kind, if only to get a reaction other than a reclusive silence.

Inuyasha and Kagome were the centre, the beginnings of the group of six they'd become. When the centre could not hold the rest would crumble, and they were suffering along with Kagome.

If there were a way to ease her burden, Miroku would see it through.

Kagome's journal was unyielding, tucked into the monk's kesa. With resignation, Miroku pulled the book into his lap, fingers splayed across the cover.

Its length was as wide as the spread of his hand and as thick as half the length from the knuckle of his thumb to the tip of his fingernail. Simple, somewhat worn black leather protected the journal from the weather.

Often in their travels Miroku had seen the notebook in the schoolgirl's possession, always scribbling something when there was time for leisure.

Curiosity drove him to open the volume.

The current light was not encouraging, Miroku pulled out the 'book-light' that Kagome had given him when returning from her last jaunt home. Flicking it on, he turned to the pages.

Miroku tuned out the Inuyasha's resulting grumble.

He skimmed through the pages, details of their travels. It was average in most respects, Kagome kept to the facts, sparingly littered with her thoughts. The first entry followed two weeks after Kagome's first journey through the Bone Eater's Well, describing the confusing events that had occurred in a surprising methodical and logical manner.

Kagome had a tendency, in general conversation, to skip from one subject to another on a whim. Miroku had so far given up trying to define her thought process.

Every few weeks a new entry was dated. It seemed the purpose of the journal was to keep memories fresh in her mind and register the smaller details in case they were important later on.

Reading the book brought many memories he had not realised he'd forgotten to the fore. In the shadow of Kagome's perspective, Miroku saw his memories in a new light. He recalled Inuyasha's fierce determination, Sango's passion, Kagome's kindness, Kirara's trust, and Shippo's mischievousness. How they had all found one another was beyond him. They were a rather eclectic group.

Pulling away from his musings he considered the book as he flipped the page, smoothing it back as he traced clear markings of black ink.

…He's so stubborn. Even when he's injured he'd run headfirst into battle. It wouldn't matter if he were half unconscious and bleeding…

… I remember the first time Miroku asked Sango to bear his children. She was so flustered and embarrassed. Of course, the rest of us were shaking our heads. But when Sango found out that he asked every girl he met to bear his children, boy, was she mad…

…Sugar. Pure sugar. I swear, the boy's addicted…

…Sesshoumaru saved my life today. I don't know why. One moment I was…

…Another fight against Naraku, another time he's slipped past our fingers. He's a coward, rushing forth to challenge and torment us before retreating to who-knows-where…

…I need to go home. I have tests, exams. It's a miracle I've lasted so long at school. And it's a wonder no one questions the insane 'medical problems' Grandpa comes up with.

Well, at least you can credit his imagination…

…I'm worried about Sango. Having Kohaku is Naraku's clutches is really hard on her. The other day she told me…

Inuyasha was a main focus of the journal. He was mentioned at least once in every entry and in one occasion, or two, an entire passage was devoted to ranting about his insensitive and stubborn manner. But, in the two years she kept track of their travels her entries slowly dwindled to become little more than the type of youkai they had battled, if it had a shard, and the injuries that had resulted from the confrontation.

The most recent recalled their latest flight:

8 taiyoukai, type unknown – from the south

No Shikon shard

Inuyasha – numerous bruises; Sango – sprained ankle

Kagome had not only withdrawn from them but her writings also. Reading her journal proved a fruitless endeavour. To discover the cause questions would need to be answered. He had to be careful too, Miroku had little doubt that she would tie him to a tree and hang him by his toes if she discovered he had read her journal.

And Inuyasha would help.

Perhaps Sango's assistance in the matter could be acquired. She did not need to know that Miroku had read the notebook and Kagome was more likely to open up to the youkai slayer.

But then again … risking Sango's estrangement in her friendship with Kagome was not something he wished to gamble lightly. He needed to be certain.

To quell his nervousness he flipped across a few blank pages, the shuffling paper did little to ease the tension. He sighed, absently rolling stiff shoulder blades and aching back.

Abruptly, Miroku came to halt as he espied a new passage crossing over two pages and no doubt the next. There was a possibility he had, finally, after hours of searching, found what he was looking for.

The muscles of his stomach clenched uncomfortably. When he noted that his companions where still unaware of his apprehension he relaxed minutely, to be almost negligible, before mustering his nerve to continue.

Keeping these feelings bottled up is doing no good. My already fraying sanity is on its last leg. I find I need to express myself, least I be lost in the secrets I keep. This will most likely be the last entry I'll write. Perhaps I will burn this notebook when I am done.

My friends, my dear, dear friends, I cannot tell them. It is not that they wouldn't understand. They would, I know they would. But I don't wish to burden them. Their troubles are so much more important than mine.

Miroku's suspicions proved correct, but that in itself was no comfort.

In the past Kagome often said that it was better to have a shoulder to cry on than to be alone. That was one of the reasons she went out of her way to help people. But it seemed that when it came to Kagome's own troubles she wished to spare them. She saw herself as a burden. It wounded him to know he was not worthy of her confidence.

If she could not tell him, Sango would have listened. They were like sisters, those two.

Miroku read on.

The slaughter of Sango's village and the manipulation of her brother, Inuyasha's betrayal and his sealing, Miroku's curse, the deaths of his father and grandfather, Shippo, with the murder of his parents – all at the hands of Naraku. My trouble pales in comparison to such heartache.

If they knew, they'd think I was crazy and in need of a psyche ward. Maybe I do, maybe I am crazy. Maybe falling into a time-travelling well to the Feudal Era has finally caught up to me and torn at my remaining sanity. That would explain a lot of things. But such an answer is too easy, too simple – an excuse is what it is. I can't ignore this any longer. It exists, it is a part of me and I cannot deny it.

Sango, Miroku, Shippo, Inuyasha, even Kirara, they don't need any distractions. I need to be strong for them.

But it's breaking my heart. Sometimes I feel so very cold, so cold that ice burns. My heart is burned by ice.

Oh, the irony.

It's rather unfair to fix something just so it can be broken again. To no longer yearn for Inuyasha and yet pine after another instead. You would have thought my heart would learn by now, to love something capable of returning it.

Kagome's trouble was one of the heart.

There was not much Miroku could do, even less if he did not wish Kagome to know he read her journal.

Invading her privacy in such a manner was a betrayal of their friendship. But it was was because of that friendship that drew him to read it.

Sango would know what to do, how to help.

Miroku sighed. If it all came crashing down, he might as well finish what he started.

It was a shock the day I realised that Inuyasha had gone to Kikyo again and I didn't mind it. I didn't feel anger or jealousy. It surprised me. I thought it was odd, I still do, but it didn't concern me that when he looked at me he only saw his old love. Nor that he could only accept me as a friend. In fact, that was all I wanted.

Inuyasha is my best friend; it was all I needed.

My heart happens to very stubborn. It's very determined to be hurt, torn, and bleeding. It hurts, to be burned by ice.

A cold draft swept through the glade, a rising challenge. Miroku shivered pulling closer to the buttress roots, tucking arms further into his voluminous sleeves. Inuyasha swore, slipping down in a flash of red to the foot of the tree. Sango curled further around the coarse woven blankets surrounding her. Kagome's shallow breath echoed across the clearing, tightening her gasp about the young kitsune at her side.

Perhaps, perhaps it was because I saw him that I no longer wanted Inuyasha? That my feelings for him consumed those I had felt before? How or when it started, I don't know. I don't even remember when I finally noticed. It grew on me.

It's like what I had felt for Inuyasha and yet so much more. Sometimes it frightens me.

I want him.

To wake up in his arms, to hear my name on his lips, to dance in the rain and know he's waiting for me. I want to have him in more than just my dreams.

While he holds my affections I am blind. When I look I cannot see any other. He has captured my mind and heart. Perhaps, in such a world, I would never need to face rejection, free to watch his days and dream.

He slipped past my guard, the thief who stole my heart…

A line of ink swept across the page in a drunken motion, the entry incomplete. Kagome must have fallen asleep before she'd finished. It was a telling passage, easing some worries but raising others.

Miroku felt a wash of futility come over him. He'd found the source, but had no name to aid him. But then, what worth was a name? Kagome's thief could live in her own time. What use would it be to have a name without a face? Without circumstance?

Kagome was lovelorn and yearning.

His thoughts once again returned to Sango.

The youkai huntress who slept serenely across the campsite could help Kagome, even if she knew nothing but of Kagome's heartache.

And although Kagome might not know it yet, she needed someone in her confidence.

When they left camp tomorrow morning he would tell Sango. They'd find a way.

In the cool air of the clearing a girl dreamed, unaware of concern expended on her behalf. Under the silvery half moon, dappled light falling through the canopy, she spent the night in the phantom arms of her lover, dreaming of silver hair, golden eyes, and a heart of ice.

A name was sweetly, tenderly whispered on the wind, and in her mind, Sesshoumaru.

Owari

Notes on taiyoukai band:

Due to the troubles with Naraku a band of taiyoukai, consisting of eight members, the first-born sons of the lesser Southern Lords, are travelling north in search of allies, most likely popping by the Western Lord's place for a diplomatic visit. They are part of the Lesser but are by no means weak, if they intended to kill Sesshoumaru they could do so, although the cost would be great with two of their company dead and four severely wounded with the remaining two supporting minor injuries.

The Lesser are taiyoukai and under-lords to the four Cardinals, the High Lords.

When Inuyasha invaded their company they had been travelling for several weeks and nearing on extreme boredom. Not wishing their prey to die an unseemly death, they chased the shard hunters for several leagues, nicking Inuyasha whenever he strayed too close. Blood would have attracted unwanted attention and they wished to be unhindered, greatly enjoying bruising the hanyou in the thrill of the chase.

Unnamed Wanderer