Chapter Two

Miroku seemed to recover quickly. The following day he asked to see the village. Sango seemed happy to oblige. Miroku was slow-moving, but sturdy, and he didn't complain when his brow became damp with sweat. Sango noticed, however, and suggested they take a break beneath a tree to watch some of the men train with weapons. The smile she received in return for the suggestion was worth it.

Reclining on the lawn, they watched the men spar each other, a few women also taking a break from their housework to join in the training. Miroku watched it appraisingly.

"All of your women are trained like this?" he asked Sango. The woman nodded. Miroku arched an eyebrow, interested, and turned back to the training field. He paused, and Sango knew that he had another question; he was just working up the nerve to ask it. It took only a moment longer for him to gather the courage. His blue eyes were a stormy kind of grey when he faced her. "How good are you?"

She shrugged. "Good enough. I've been trained to carry around a sword since I was about the same size it was, but it's not my chosen weapon. I prefer ranged weapons and letting Kirara take care of the rest. Oh—that's right. You haven't met Kirara. She's around here somewhere. She comes and goes as she pleases, but she never goes very far. I'm sure she'll seek you out eventually. She checks out everyone who comes through our gates."

"Your weapons seem strange to me."

"They are made out of parts of demons. The demons we kill can sometimes be very large. Rather than letting the body just rot, we scavenge it for whatever we can get: bones for weapons, poison sacks, scales for armour, sometimes even meat for food. Plus, demons have very tough skins and their fortitude is unlike anything we humans can achieve. Sometimes the only thing that can pierce the outside of a demon is the tooth of another demon."

Miroku was nodding. "Nothing usually remains of the demons I fight for that to be a worry for me," he muttered. Louder he then changed the topic of conversation before Sango could ask what he had meant. "What else are the women of your village trained to do?"

"Fight, raise children, cook, clean, keep house, tend to the gardens and other farming jobs... some of the daughters of the smiths even learn how to temper steel or stock forges to help their fathers with their jobs. What we learn changes based upon the jobs of our families. We have to be able to know how to run the village when our husbands or fathers or brothers are away, so we learn everything. I hear women in other villages are trained in dance or flower arranging. We learn practical things."

"Flower arranging is a practical thing," Miroku argued quickly—too quickly. "How else would you make look your look pleasant or bring honour to your husband?"

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. Miroku gulped audibly, feeling as if he was going to be swallowed. "I would bring honour to my husband by keeping the house intact while he was away. I'd bring honour by defending his children. And you're assuming that I even have the slightest inclination in wanting to wed. I'm seventeen year old, Houshi-sama. Had I wished, I may have been married as many as two years ago, but I chose not to wed."

"Why not?"

She shot him another glare and turned away, her lips tight. The small scar on the corner of her mouth was even more visible from the taught skin. Sango's voice was just as constricted. He had overstepped his bounds and he knew it, but he hadn't been able to help it. He liked teasing Sango. It was fun. It was dangerous. That was why it was fun.

"Is there anything else you want to see, Houshi-sama?"

"I'd like the see anything related to Midoriko." He smiled at her kindly, wondering why she seemed curious of his smile. Could she perhaps see past it and wondered at his ulterior motives? "The legend of the jewel interests me, as does the life of the priestess. You see, my own past somewhat involves the jewel, and so I have my own investment in knowing about how it was formed. Knowledge is power, Lady Sango."

"The resting place of the priestess is located on the top of the hill. It's a long climb, but not very steep. Do you think you can make it?"

He nodded. "I'd hate to lower myself in your eyes by making you carry me, Lady Sango. My pride will keep me moving even if my energy gives up. I'm stronger than you seem to think. Perhaps when I am fully healed, you will do me the honour of engaging in friendly combat with me. I would like to see what you consider 'good enough'."

At that Sango smiled, standing up and dusting off her clothes before offering him a helping hand up. He took it, and she was a little surprised to find that his hands were just as callused as hers were. His grip was strong and firm. She wondered at the grip in his hands. They were working hands. They were hands with a story behind them, and she wondered what it was.

"It's your funeral, Houshi-sama."


"So that is Midoriko," Miroku noted when he had caught his breath. He was sitting on the rocky ground in the cave overlooking the demon slayer's village, breathing heavily. Sango was pretending not to notice, for which he was grateful. She hadn't been lying when she had said that it was a long hike to reach the cave. He stared up at the statue. "She's..."

When his voice trailed off, Sango stepped closer to the statue, staring up at the twisted, mummified face in loving respect. "She's beautiful. You can see her bravery even when she's like this. She's locked forever in combat with the demon. How much bravery it must have took to do that! It doesn't matter that her body is mummified, or what she made have looked like in the past when she was alive. Seeing her like this makes you appreciate the great acts she did. It makes you respect her, and that's when you have to acknowledge it: Midoriko is beauitful."

He was staring at them both with a new respect on his face. "You come here often to think, I take it."

"Whenever I need time alone, which is almost every single day. I hadn't come up here lately because I've been looking after you. Normally, I'd run up here, just for an hour or so. It's a nice place to think." She must have seen his surprised look, because she blushing explained. "I know it seems dark and alien to others, but I grew up here. It is nice because it's a hopeful reminder of what our lives are capable of doing. Midoriko may have died, but her death served a greater good. I'm a warrior, Houshi-sama. There are very few ways my life will eventually end. Either I die in battle, or because of it, or due to complications with old age. If I do die, I want it to be for a good cause."

Sango glanced at him, her blush still staining her cheeks. "What? What is it? Why are you staring at me like that?"

"Perhaps you may not believe me, Lady Sango, but I have often felt the same way."

For a moment she kept staring back at him, wondering if perhaps he was making fun of her. She felt a chill of surprise run up her spine when she realized that no, he wasn't. Miroku was being serious. As they stared at each other, both of them dawned on the smile shared between them. The smile had come to them so simply and naturally that it was like watching a sunrise: it was there before you knew it and no force could stop it. Comaraderie. It flowed between them, mingling and joining them together without touch either of them, yet warming and comforting all at the same time.

And Miroku's heart panicked.


This had made everything worse. Now he was friends with Sango, and both of them were aware of it. Miroku felt like he was drowning. He was closer than ever with Sango, learning her secrets and sharing secret smiles with her. But it wasn't as close as he wanted to be with her, and it was killing him. Friendship offered him a tantalizing glimpse at her complexities and amiabilities, things he wanted to explore more.

But it was too close. Miroku didn't have time for friends. He worked alone. He worked alone for a reason. Friends would make it harder to leave when the air-void consumed him. Sometimes it was bad enough knowing he was leaving Mushin and Hachi. He didn't need to think of Sango being hurt as well. He needed to find a way to keep her away from him, maybe to hurt her so badly she'd hate him... yes. As much as he would hate himself and as broken as his heart may feel when he would hurt her, in the end, that situation would be for the best.

Thinking of the derriere he had been admiring the day before, he grinned to himself. He had often thought about touching, caressing that derriere. Perhaps that was the perfect way to keep Sango pushed away from him. Watching her turn back to Midoriko, Miroku cracked his knuckles and prepared to quench the desire of his most recent fantasies.

"Meow!"

Miroku had heard cats meow before. What none of them had ever had before was the loud, throaty growl that echoed in the pit of his stomach, or the breath that went with it so strong it moved his bangs. The sound had come from behind him, and he slowly turned to look behind him. The largest cat he had ever seen was standing directly behind him, the cat's long whiskers touching the hair tied at the back of his head. Her gold eyes were angry-looking, and when he gulped nervously, he could see that the cat was following it. She was aware that he was nervous. His eyes focussed on her teeth. They were huge! She could render him in half with those teeth.

"Kirara!"

Sango's voice made the cat look away from Miroku. Instantly the cat made a softer sound and pounced on Sango. Miroku's hands were on the beads of the kazaana to open it and save Sango before he realized that she wasn't under attack—she was laughing. Although the cat was holding Sango in her large paws, she had her claws sheathed and was, in fact, licking Sango's cheek.

She laughingly pushed the large cat down. As she did so, Miroku noticed that the cat-demon had two tails and small flames licking her ankles. "This," Sango introduced, "is Kirara. Kirara, this is Houshi-sama. He's staying in our house for the next few days."

Kirara turned back and glanced at Miroku. The small flames increased for a second as she eyed him. He stared her back down, no longer nervous. Miroku thought that it was this which made Kirara accept him. After a moment the flames leapt up to envelop her, and when they subsided, a demon the size of a normal housecat remained. Kirara was adorable as a housecat: large gold eyes and a cute little nose. She sauntered up to Miroku and sniffed him. After a moment, she tentatively climbed into his lap, nudging Miroku's hand until he obliged her and ran his fingers though her fur.

"She likes you."

"I wouldn't have pictured the demon slayers having a fellow demon in their midst."

"Oh, sure we do. Kirara's a bit of a special case, but we don't have a problem with some types of demons, like the ones who protect lands or who are talented at forges. We have problems with the demons that run wild and cause danger to people and their homes—some demons even are dangers to themselves. We have a number of hanyous in the village. With their abilities to withstand harsher temperatures, eyes for finer details, and quicker reactions, they are some of the best skilled professionals we have. Most of our smiths and tailors are hanyous."

"Why is Kirara a special case?" he asked as he pet the cat demon in question. "Is she a pet?"

"She's a partner. Kirara has always been here in the village, and more specifically, with my family. She was with my mother when my mother was my age, and my mother used to tell me that Kirara also protected my grandmother. I don't know when she came to the village, or how she got here, but she's part of the reason why our village has lasted so long." Sango shifted to lean over to whisper in Miroku's ear. "And I wouldn't call her a pet again. Kirara fully understands human talk."

Miroku gulped nervously. If he really was planning on groping Sango to keep her away, then he was going to have to do it when the cat-demon wasn't around. Otherwise, keeping a safe emotional distance between himself and Sango was going to be hazardous to his health.

"Come on," she said, straightening. "We should go back soon. It's almost time for lunch."


As they walked into Sango's house, a commotion caught their attention. A low, slick voice was talking to the voice Miroku had identified in the past days as Sango's father. Sango was holding Kirara in her arms as they walked down the hallway and past the door behind which the conversation was being held. As soon as she heard the voice, she squeezed Kirara tightly to her chest. Her throat burned as she forgot to breathe.

"We already gave you our answer," Sango's father told the man.

"I wish you would reconsider," the other man purred. "I have heard that he isn't far from this village. If you don't do something, then your village may be next."

Sango's back stiffened. She had a knack for when something was off to her, and whenever the prince's emissary opened his vile mouth, Sango's sense for danger went off the charts. Her voice barely rose above a whisper when she turned to Miroku. "You should go."

"What is it?"

"...I don't know..." Her breath came out as a shudder. "But you should go. This is business."

"If you don't want to reconsider," the stranger continued, "then please, let me talk to Sango."

"My daughter?"

In the hallway all three individuals froze when they heard Sango's name. Kirara leapt to Miroku's shoulder so Sango could lean forward and apply pressure to the edge of the door. Slowly and quietly, the door peeled back enough for Sango to see into the room. Her father had her back to the door, but she could see the other man's face.

"Yes, your daughter. Perhaps if I talked to her myself, I would be able to convince her of the urgency of the situation." He let the thought mull as he picked up the tea cup in front of him to take a sip. "She's an amazing woman. So determined and strong and passionate. A man would be proud to have her in their family, or even just to know her as a friend. I should like to be her friend."

"Are you speaking of courting my daughter?"

He smiled over his tea cup. He then lifted his head and looked up—right at Sango. She had to cover her mouth to keep from gasping out loud. He was making direct eye contact with her. Somehow, he knew that she was standing right there.

"I'd only speak of that if she'd have me. No, quite simply, there is something that she has that I want."

Sango backed up quickly. She couldn't stand the words she was hearing. At once her hand flew to her chest where the jewels were hidden. Somehow... he knew. He couldn't just feel them, the way she could, but he wanted them as well. Her hand bunched the fabric of her yukata, able to feel the sharp corners of the jewel even through the layers of fabric she wore.

"Houshi-sama... are you strong enough to purify a single shard of the shikon jewel?" she asked him. She felt him nod rather than see it. "I wonder... would you be kind enough to purify the shard I found?"

It was the understanding in his voice that eased the constriction in her chest enough for her to breathe. "Of course I will, Lady Sango."


He found her when she was alone in the garden. He liked watching her exercise. There was such... potential in her movements! If only the shard she carried had been tainted more, enough to act upon her deepest, darkest secrets... But no. The shard was barely tainted. That was why he had been able to sense it. The tainted jewels called to him, the way a dying man called upon the devil when faced with death. It was simply a matter that Sango did not have a tainted area of her mind for the jewel to harness in its own desires.

She was much like Kikyou in that respect.

It was that and the jewel that had drawn his attention to Sango. She was... filled with such potential. If her heart could be tainted, if she could lose herself to her anger and despair, if she drew upon the shard for power, if she did, she may even be strong enough to kill Inuyasha.

As he watched her exercise, performing intricate movements with her wakazashi, it suddenly dawned on him that he didn't sense the jewel on her anymore. Had Sango perhaps disposed of it somewhere? No. He didn't sense it anywhere in the area. Anger and frustration boiled up inside him—to be so close and yet so far!

His gaze slipped up from the shadows, moving from Sango to the cat sitting on the porch, to the man leaning against the railing of the porch petting the small demon, and the father approaching them. Naraku's eyes turned back to the man petting Kirara. The monk. The monk. He had the power to purify the jewels...

As he watched, Sango finished her pattern dance and paused for breath before moving into the next one, a more complicated and skilled dance. She shook her head, trying to lift the sticky feeling of sweat from the back of her neck, smiling. Her grin brightened as she hefted her sword and glanced at the monk on the balcony. Her brown eyes danced warmly, not with lust or even love, he noticed—but respect and honour. The monk, in returned, offered his own smile at Sango, a little too wide and cheerful to be a normal smile, and his eyes a little too focussed on Sango to be perfectly polite. The woman's cheeks darkened and she quickly resumed her exercise to hide her blush.

The monk's smile had been full of desire, and Sango had reciprocated it in her own unique way.

It was Naraku's turn to smile.

He knew how to make the darkness within Sango grow.


He found her when she was alone in the garden. He liked watching her exercise. There was such grace and beauty in her movements! It was like watching poetry in motion. Miroku leaned on the porch railing, his long fingers gently running through Kirara's fur. He tried his best to keep his face neutral, hiding his true feelings—thank god he was good at it. He didn't want Sango to see how much he wanted her.

It was torture. Watching her work was like putting himself through torture. The way her long hair was pulled back made him wish that it was down, dreaming of entwining his fingers in it or stroking it for her as it lay over her muscled back. Watching the way her feet moved made him wish that there were music so he could see her dance—no trained dancer could ever best her raw dexterity and speed. He loved the way her cheeks darkened and how her bound chest moved when she breathed.

She stopped the dance, smiling at him. His heart thumped uncomfortably in his chest. He smiled back, trying to be polite, but the smile had a mind of its own. The feelings he had been trying to hide all but leapt out, filling his eyes with longing and his smile with the hint of a smirk that was none-too polite. His breathing quickened when she turned away blushingly.

Had she no interest in him, she would have thrown something at him, or perhaps glared. This indicated that she was simply uncertain of how to continue, or perhaps embarrassed that he was being so obvious in his wanton desire to be near her, to touch her, to speak with her... She was interested in him, at least in some way. Miroku was sure of it! If that was true, then diligence might perhaps reward him for his efforts...

Kirara meowed under his hand, shifting her weight. It was his only warning that someone was coming near to them. Miroku quickly wiped the smile from his face and straightened to see Sango's father approaching them. "Hello, sir."

"Good afternoon, Houshi-sama." At least now Miroku knew where Sango had gotten her sense of propriety. "So, you are the monk that purified the shard Sango found."

"Yes. It wasn't all that difficult, sir. The jewel was hardly tainted at all."

"You have still done us a great service. If you are feeling up to it, we will have a feast this evening in your name."

Miroku nodded and smiled a little. "I would be much honoured, but a simple fare will do. I'm a wandering priest, sir, and I am still recuperating. I may be able to walk and hold my own for short periods of time, but sleep still comes too easily and refuses to leave in the morning, and my appetite is not returned yet. If you insist on this feast, I would much prefer to have it pushed back to a later date, so that I could fully enjoy it."

Eyeing Miroku carefully, he nodded. "You speak well of yourself—making yourself clear and confident, and yet also being polite. It is a refreshing sight. When Sango gets frustrated, she loses her focus and becomes rash. Kohaku is the opposite—he's too polite. He is so eager not to offend that he back downs when he should assert himself.

"Enough small talk. There was something specific I wished to discuss with you. We have no monk here. I understand from Sango, and now from yourself, that you are a travelling monk. If you are tired of the road, our house is open to you for as long as you would like. Your skill as a priest would be beneficial to both our job and our community."

Miroku's face paled. "Sir... Believe me when I say that I have had many offers to stay in cities, and none have interested or tempted me so much as this one. This place, this town... I could settle down here. I could fit in here. But... long have I thought that it was my presence that brought destruction to the village your slayers found. I am a danger anywhere I go. For the safety of your village, I can not remain. Once I am healed," his voice choked a little, "I plan to leave."

The leader's face was perfectly neutral. "My daughter will be disappointed."

Gripping his bound hand tightly, the space between the beads pinching his skin in a painfully familiar manner, Miroku chose his words carefully. The pinched flesh reminded him of why he could not stay. "Tell her that I am just as disappointed, but that I have promises to keep. When those promises are kept, then I would be glad to return and stay, if the offer still exists. You must understand sir, that this is something greater than I."

Miroku was well aware that the man had noticed the tight grip in his hand. "I understand the motivation, if not the reason. Don't you think that she has a right to know as well?"

"I am not the honest man you mistake me for, sir. I have told women before, and their answer is all the same: pity. It has led women to... to be more intimate with me than they would have otherwise. I... respect Sango. I would not want to court her with deceit, even if the deceit consists of the truth."

Chuckling, he glanced at his daughter. "Respect meaning that you also fear her a little?"

"Yes."

"A wise man. If you seek a woman who won't chase you out of the house with a ladle, then you would do best to look elsewhere for companionship, even if only of the... temporary kind. The women here know how to defend themselves and how to keep their husbands in line. My own wife, Sango's mother, used to bribe Kirara into bringing her dead birds and mice which she hid in my bedding when she was particularly mad at me. Of course, I had no proof it was her, and I dared not chastise Kirara for fear of my life."

"And you allowed this?"

He smiled. Miroku was envious—he wished that he could one day smile like that when he thought of a woman. "You never met my wife. She was always so straight-face and proper when I found those dead mice... you could never suspect her. When I once crawled into bed before I found it and screamed—who wouldn't scream when met with a dead sparrow in their bed?--she laughed herself silly. It was a beautiful sight, and I would deal with all of her small pranks for just her in my life for another hour. You see, she did not keep control of her household and husband through fear or sexuality, but simply by respect. She was under handed and subtle and because of this, I respected her.

"You respect Sango. I can see it. You stand here watching her as I once watched her mother. Seeing it warms my heart—I won't lie or try to deceive you about that. If you respect her, you will tell her. Sango is not other women. I think you have noticed this already, though. Just because other women may have let their emotion rule their decisions does not mean that Sango will. If you continue letting her get close to you, then when you break down—and you will one day break down and explain why to her—then she will be so close to you it will hurt her more. If you tell her while you remain simply friends, then she can have time to deal with the information."

Miroku was quiet, taking the words to heart. There was a wisdom in those words—perhaps too much wisdom. As he thought, a light breeze ruffled his bangs. He glanced at Sango. No, she was no ordinary woman. If he were her father, he would want the best for her, and perhaps be jealous to let her go. And then to have a poor, wandering monk take an interest in her welfare, to gaze at her with such obvious infatuation...

"Why are you telling me this?" the monk muttered.

"Because she is my daughter. I do not want to see her hurt."

Both men were silent. Miroku felt nervous. Fighting it back, he asked, "Did you know that Sango was listening at the door yesterday before lunch?" The broad-shouldered man nodded. "Yet you don't punish her for eavesdropping, or even tell her that you know. Do you approve of her actions?"

"Not entirely. However, she is a woman. She has a right to know what is going on, and no one other than you and I know that she listening in. Listening is the greatest skill anyone, regardless of their gender, can have. It reveals truth, lies, allies, and enemies."

"...May I ask what was going on? Why you were meeting with him and arguing with him?"

"A business arrangement."

"He was speaking of marrying Sango," Miroku pointed out with a growl edging his voice.

His comment was met with silence. Stubbornly Miroku kept the guilt from showing. He knew that he had sounded jealous and so the monk was playing dumb. If he revealed that he was aware of his lapse and ashamed of it, he worried that his feelings for Sango may also be revealed. At least if he played dumb, the jealousy could be revealed as no more than masculine pride.

"Even if Sango had indicated to me she had an interest in... that man, I'd not have him in my family. He's too obsessive. If you wish to know more, ask Sango. It's her life in question, not my own. Enjoy the rest of your day, Houshi-sama."


She knocked and didn't get an answer. Sango waited a moment, biting her bottom lip. Why hadn't Miroku answered her knock? She slid the shoji screen open a crack, wondering if he was asleep. She found him sitting cross-legged on the floor, staring out the window of his bedroom and staring at the full moon. The pool of silvery moonlight that enveloped him made his dark hair shine in the darkness. She was about to pull the door shut when he turned to look at her.

"Sango, what happens when you marry?"

She was taken aback by the question. Slowly, as if entranced by those blue eyes staring at her intently, she walked in to sit down slightly behind him, out of the pool of moonlight. "Father and I have an arrangement. I want to agree with the person he chooses to marry me, if that's why you're wondering why I'm still single despite being seventeen."

"No. I want to know what happens when you marry. What would you do? Would you give up fighting?"

"Well, I... I don't know. I'd have a home to take care of, and one day children. I imagine I'd do as most women do and remain behind while the men go off to battle, so that I could be here to defend the town. But that's only if I married somebody who would live here with me. If I lived elsewhere... I don't think I could. I'd have no role to play outside the village. So I would stay here, and keep house as well as I could, and raise children as well as I could, and fight when the fight came to my door, but I wouldn't go looking for trouble."

"As well as you could?"

She blushed. "I may have some training in how to keep a house, but I have my areas that cause me trouble. Cleaning I can do—in fact, I enjoy physical labour. It's just another way of keeping myself in shape. But cooking? I can't cook. I've burned water before. Serving tea? I fumble. I'm used to handling swords, not delicate pottery! And children... are complex. I'd worry that the things I do would somehow harm it eventually."

"I've seen your maternal side, Sango. Your hands may be callused, but they are no less maternal or loving or gentle than even the most feminine of women." Miroku had always considered himself a smooth talker, but he had no real grasp of the power of his words until he saw Sango avoid his gaze at his compliment. He had just been frank with her. Sango responded to his compliments with a delicacy and shyness that he had not expected of her.

"Thank you, Houshi-sama."

His name. Never his name, even in that hushed tone she used when she was nervous around him. She was forcing a respectful distance between them.

"What's the matter? Haven't you been complimented before?" She nodded yes; she had been complimented before. "So, you want to marry a demon-slayer, or a man willing to stay in your village, and you would keep house as well you could, and bear him children... and you would protect them as fiercely as a demon would protect their young. But what of your duties as the daughter of a leader of this village?"

She chewed her cheek for a moment. His gentle questions eased answers from him she would not normally have given. "There is a chance that Kohaku, when he comes of age, would deny Father. As his only other child, the responsibilities of Father would fall to my husband. If I were not married, if the clan would accept me, I could assume them, but otherwise the position could be assumed by one of my cousins. My marriage would become entirely political."

"Would you let your husband assume the duties for you?"

"I don't know. If he were better than me, certainly. If he were my equal, I don't know. If he were a weaker leader than I am, I would try to lead. But even I have my weaknesses. I'm picky about marrying because that situation is one I don't want to deal with. I want my husband and I to be equals, and then we can both lead together. I wouldn't mind still giving him children and letting him lead if he were as good as a fighter as I am because then I wouldn't have to worry about him. But I... I'd like someone charismatic and intelligent, who can also lead people, because that's where I have difficulty. I don't understand people, not very well. You have no idea how hard it is finding a man that can hold his own in battle and yet is still learned and charismatic."

Listening to her speak, Miroku felt like his heart broke. It scared him—terrified him, really—that he knew it really was broken, and also that it had broken so quickly. He had known Sango for only a few days, and yet he had fallen for her, completely and indefinetely. No other woman could ever capture his heart and he doubted anything could quite heal it.

He knew that he was exactly what she wanted. He was a people person, he had no home and would love to claim the village as his home, he was a fighter, he was an educated monk, he would eagerly give her children, he was happy both leading and becoming a normal man. For a moment, he saw the life he could have in Sango, and as quickly as he saw it, the beads on his hand reminded him that it was slipping through his fingers.

"Sango..."

She moved closer to him before he could finish. She leaned her head against his shoulder, and he could smell her tears in the still air. "Father told me that you wouldn't be staying with us. You're welcome to stay, Houshi-sama. Why won't you stay with us? Is something wrong? Is it because of me?"

"You?" He turned to look at her. She looked incredibly nervous. Strands of her hair floated around her slender neck, as if she had been running her fingers through her hair nervously. "Sango, you could do nothing wrong..."

"I'm sorry, but I'm just not used to being noticed by men. I keep seeing you look at me, or smile at me, or watching me, and I want to tell you to stop, but it's... it's flattering, and I... I just don't know what to do..."

"Easy. You tell me to stop." Before she could speak he swung himself around so that he could see her. Miroku took her hard shoulders in his hands carefully. Sango gulped with nervousness. Miroku felt a twitch of frustration at the sight. You dear, sweet, naïve, little fool! he thought to himself. Do you think you're the only one who's scared?

"Sango, I wish dearly that my destiny lay inside the walls of this village. I wish to God that I was the man of which you spoke. And if I weren't now, I wish dearly that I could become him. But I have… promises and responsibilities that no other man alive could possibly understand. I already know what my destiny is, and it's not here in this village."

"Who are you to believe in destiny? Souls may be destined to love some one else, to find a better half, to be easily swayed by temptation, or uphold the highest virtues," she choked out, clinging to her words with a fevered desperation she had never known before. "But people can overcome those things! Just because the path is set at our birth doesn't mean that our own wills can't change it!"

His face was sorrowed. "I have a mission to complete. There is a demon that I need to kill, and I can't stop until I find him and kill him."

"Then let me come with you!" She could already see the answer on his face. Angry, Sango pulled herself from his grasp. "What better person to have by your side than a demon slayer when you have to hunt down a demon?"

"It's dangerous."

"And all the demons I've killed by myself weren't dangerous?"

"No, Sango, I'm dangerous." He held out his gloved hand. "It's called the kazaana, Sango."

She didn't move a muscle as he explained his history, how he had gotten the kazaana. He told her far more than he had ever meant to; he told her far more than he had ever told anyone else. He laid the deepest memories out for her, wanting to make her understand why he had to leave the village and why it was dangerous for her to go with him, but when she looked up to his eyes, he felt as if he were hitting glass. Whatever she thought, he couldn't tell. It unnerved him, and he pushed harder, until finally, everything was laid out in the open.

"You're going to die if it isn't stopped…"

"…yes."

Sango's eyes dropped to the floor. "And if you fail, then…"

"Then there is no other who can remove this blight upon my family unless I can father a child, and then it would be his responsibility. My end is only a few years away. I fear it's too late. Even if I found a woman capable of bearing my child, capable with dealing with the danger and the pain, my son would be three, maybe four when he inherited the kazaana. And then he would be even younger than I am when he died. We can only live with the kazaana for about two decades. It was for this reason that I wanted to find a strong woman to bear my child. I wanted her to be strong for she'd have to raise him by herself, and because it would mean my child would be strong. It would give him a fighting chance in this world. And now, ironically, that I have found a woman I consider strong enough to bear my child and live with the pain and grief it would cause her, and lovely enough that I am attracted to her… it is the one woman I cannot stand the idea of helping to father a child."

Miroku waited for her to look before continuing. He wanted her to see the honesty on his face. His eyes were steady as he beheld her, stubbornly wishing she could understand. "I would die happy if I knew you were safe, Sango. I am the reason why that village was destroyed. I am a danger to you and this village. The longer I remain here, the greater the chance that my enemy will send his demons after me."

"But we kill demons! Of all the world, this is the one place that should be safe for you!"

"Yes, and that will make his attack here all the more brutal and ruthless. Sango, if I find a way to remove the curse, I promise I will return to you and this place. I have given up so much already I can't ask you to do the same. Remain with your family. I know how much it hurts to lose them. Love and treasure yours while you still can."

Gone was the nervous girl who had looked ready to bolt at a compliment. Miroku realized that he was no longer speaking to Sango the girl, but to the hardened warrior. "I hadn't been asking your permission to let me accompany you. I was offering my services. If you don't want me to go with you, fine, but what in the world makes you think that you can tell me to sit here safely and listen?"

His hearg was filled with adoration. He loved her when she looked angry. Her lips were pressed closed so tightly hat the scar in the corner of her mouth blazed white. God, how he wanted to kiss that scar! All her scars!

"Nothing I can say can make you do anything. That's why I'm not giving you a choice. Your father told me that you have a mission, for a Lord Takeda. Go on your mission, Sango. When you return, I will be long gone."

So there it was. He was going to run from everything he had ever wanted like a coward. Sango glared at him, and he deserved every second of that potent expression. She recognized his cowardice. Without a word she rose and walked out. The sound of the cicadas outside filled the room.

And Miroku tried to convince himself that it was best like that.


To Be Continued...

AN: I will try to update when I can. I'm about 1/4 of the way through chapter three right now. Currently searching for a summer job while working my ass off at another that I can't stand. Wish me luck!