Written for the Miroku/Sango Summer Challenge now ongoing at mirsanficart at LJ for the month of June. The prompt is Wind: Part four of four.
Without hesitation, Miroku ran after her. He had not been expecting a reaction this strong, despite their having skirted the issue for too long.
He knew Sango was strong but brittle; she could be broken by even something as mild as a gust of wind. In this case, the metaphor was apt. The monk clenched his right fist: the beads rattled against one another.
He found her at last, sobbing her heart out into her sleeve. Miroku took her into his arms, hoping to provide Sango with at least this small comfort.
"Sango, listen to me, please," he told her, pressing his lips to her ear. "I know time is not enough; it's never enough. But hope is all we have. If we don't have hope, we have nothing."
A sniff; and a small but determined voice. "Then I'd rather have nothing."
He grinned into her hair. "If that's what you wish. But I'd rather we have at least each other, the ones we love."
Sango stiffened in his embrace. Slowly, she pushed him away again, but gentler this time. "Do you – is that what you really want, Houshi-sama?"
"Now, Sango, that won't do," he mock-scolded her. "You promised to marry me once this is all over – are you having second thoughts now?"
"Nothing of the sort!" She hastily wiped her eyes: Miroku pretended to be interested in the grass. The corner of his mouth tugged upward. She was a delightful puzzle, his Sango. Just when he thought she was fragile and vulnerable – a hair's breadth away from the edge – here she was displaying the inner core of steel beneath the glass.
"Beautiful," he said before he could stop himself. Sango blushed and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
"Oh, and Sango: in response to your question…" Miroku would not have thought it possible for the colour of her face to deepen any further.
"What question?" she mumbled evasively.
He smirked. "Dear Sango, how bad your memory is recently. As to the nature of our relationship, we could be more than just engaged friends, if only you'd lose that nasty habit of slapping me senseless."
"What?! It seems your memory's not much better. If you wouldn't grope me, I wouldn't need to slap you in the first place!"
It was working; she was getting mad. Miroku knew from his experience that an angry Sango was a distracted one – even for a while, they could leave their problems behind and be just an ordinary girl and boy.
Naraku had stripped away her innocence; he took it upon himself to keep Sango – and through her himself – sane and whole.
"Houshi-sama?"
He grinned; he knew it was guaranteed to agitate her further. Growling in frustration, Sango slapped at him – albeit with none of the bruising force that was usual.
"Why, I do believe you're coming around to my way of thinking."
And so their up-and-down relationship went back to normal, awaiting the day they could be free to live and love.