Part Ten: Miroku & Sango

Miroku knew from the moment that she released the Hiraikotsu that everything was about to go wrong. A dread in his gut begged her to stay put, to keep out of it, but he knew his Sango and he knew it was futile.

A small swelling of hope inflated in his stomach as her weapon conquered potent twisters of miasma and broke through Naraku's body, but the purple cloud following it back to her person immediately popped it again. When he caught himself thinking about how beautiful she looked with her hair blown free in a purple wind, he became sickened with himself. Where is her mask?

He prayed that Kagome's arrow would be enough, that it could purify the miasma in time, but Naraku's voice chimed in triumphantly behind them as Kagome's arrow purified Kirara's demon form and Sango began to fall, and his hope was forsaken. "It's too late. Sango has been completely consumed by the miasma. You should never have given your mask, your only means of protection to Rin."

Why? He screamed, or at least he thought he did. Why would she do that?

"It was a foolish decision, even if you meant to repent for your sin."

What sin? Sango what did you do?

He pushed his body up to run, to reach her in time before she fell through another layer of Naraku's skin, and finally his voice cooperated: "Sango!" As he reached the edge of the pit, she had already begun her descent too far to be recovered, and with the hesitation of only his failing body, he jumped into the pit alongside her.

Though the ground had sealed above them, Miroku could still hear Naraku's voice resonate in the flesh all around them: "The least you could do is allow them to spend their last moments alive in privacy." Miroku wondered if they could hear it by Naraku's design, because after that, the cavern they found themselves in was absolutely silent.

He looked up from the ground – or whatever it was – and saw her lying a ways away, motionless. "Sango!" He called again, pulling himself up to run to her once more, and fell to her side. He fought the pull of his Wind Tunnel, trying to quiet the whistling that pierced his ears. "Sango, why did you…"

She finally – finally – opened her eyes, and spoke softly, "So I failed." He would have sworn his heart shattered into a million pieces that cut through every nerve in his body. Why indeed… It was all to save me: a lost cause.

"I apologize for leaving you alone," he said, just as softly as she'd spoken. This was not the time for confrontation, not when the end of his life was so near. The last moments of the love of his life would be devoted to affection, decades of what he would have given her all rolled into one breath.

"Houshi-sama…" she whispered, clutching his robes in her shaking fist. "Please… Take me with you." No, how can I, how can you ask me – "Promise me we'll die together."

In that split second, he imagined if their situation had been reversed, if he'd had to watch her slowly die the way he'd watch her slowly heal since they met, if he'd had to face a life of being stronger without her. How could I ask her to live, when I know I could not?

He scooped her up into his arms and cradled her close to his chest, her name slipped past his teeth in place of a promise, in place of a vow.

They spoke no more; there was nothing else to say. There were no more empty promises, no more wishes, no more sweet words, and the silence of Naraku's flesh swallowed them whole.

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My Dear, we're slow dancing in a burning room…

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