Some days, Miroku actually feels somewhat bad for this, for this act of healing that he's convinced himself is more than necessary to ensure Kagome's sanity remains intact for herself and her son – Haru, who is the spitting image of Inuyasha, of course, all wild golden eyes, short temper, foul mouth, and thick, silver mane.

It kills her to look at him on days like today, Miroku knows, and this why he's snuck away from his duties as Sango's husband and father to her children-

Kagome needs him, today of all days.

As he sinks gently into her warm, grieving depths, her slightly squirming hips held tightly in his grasp, he forces away the memories of this same day, four years ago. Haru was eight, and he was just beginning to really see the world for what it was – a rather dangerous place.

This, however didn't stop him from attempting to explore it on his own, often daring to venture a little too far from the village for Inuyasha's comfort.

Miroku nips lightly at Kagome's pert breasts, massaging her nipple with tongue gently as he remembers the argument he had with Inuyasha, the subsequent fight that broke out, his cursing and angry tone mismatched with apathetic words sent flying at his best friend like a randomly thrown sharp weapon:

"Fine! Go off and get him on your own – and probably get into trouble to boot! See if I care!"

His thrusts increase in speed, and Miroku moans heavily, from deep within his throat, against Kagome's skin, which is soft and smooth and pliant. She's a beauty, and he knows why Inuyasha chose her to mate – though he's never been quite sure he would have done the same. So fragile she is, has always been… It troubles him, how seemingly easy it's been for her to cope with Inuyasha's death.

Miroku comes abruptly, and the act finishes almost as suddenly as it had begun; slowly, he empties himself inside Kagome and pulls away, pulls out, backing off like he probably should have done from the beginning, but she needs this, he keeps reminding himself. Without looking back at her, he turns away and gets dressed, flushing a bit with shame.

"I'll see you later, yes, Kagome-chan?" His tone is charming, yes, but warm, no. He turns his head just slightly to note the slight vertical jerk of the miko's head before stalking out of the room, down the hallway, and out the front of the house.

Just as Kagome's finished retying the sash around her yukata and righting her hair, Haru walks in the door of the house, blinking at his mother. He's already about her height. "What was the houshi doing here, haha-ue?" he asks, his curiosity innocent and genuine.

Kagome smiles and brushes some of her son's unruly hair from his eyes, answering, "Oh, I was just offering him some sympathy. He still mourns your father, you know."

To this, Haru just nods, moving away with a smile and a whine about silly mothers.