Chap 14.

For the first time all night, Miroku found himself feeling true fear as he trudged through the brown, dead brambles with the young Hisato draped over his shoulders. He wasn't that concerned about the boy, it looked like he would recover given a little rest. He'd not even really been that worried over leaving Kagome alone, since he trusted that she would at least use some common sense and hopefully have a plan to fix this whole mess. Miroku, in general, was just not a worrisome sort of person. Yet as he'd been making his way back around the edge of the clearing, he'd stolen a glance out at the fighting unfolding before him, and his heart had dropped to the ground when he realized that Inuyasha was in the clutches of Yayano's magic. Undoubtedly he feared for his half-demon friend, but worse still, Sango was now nowhere to be seen.

Where was she? That was the only thought pounding in his skull now as he pushed his way through another stand of spindly, bare bushes, the budding terror in his heart worsening with every step. Kirara was not around either, as far as he could tell, so he was praying that they were together somewhere safe. Still, he couldn't shake the knowledge in his heart that Sango would never leave Inuyasha to fight alone. Not unless she was injured, and injured badly.

He paused a moment to lean his shoulder against a tree and catch his breath. Hisato wasn't big by any means, but it was still no easy feat trudging through the forest carrying another person, especially an unconscious one. He might as well have been carrying a corpse. The worried voice in the back of Miroku's head was tempting him to just leave the boy behind for now, since he'd be able to find Sango faster if he was unburdened. He wouldn't ever do that, though. Now was no time to be losing his head.

Miroku pushed himself off the tree to begin his trek once more, his goal being to reach the far side of the clearing. He'd planned to find a safe spot to hide Hisato, and then return to help Kagome. But he couldn't return to the fight before finding Sango and making sure she was alright. For all he knew, she was injured and unconscious somewhere out in the dark forest, all alone…

Miroku gave his head a violent shake, trying to dislodge those grim imaginings. She was fine, he told himself. She. Was. Fine. Sango had survived some of the worst things imaginable, she would survive this fight as well.

Remembering that day their group met Sango sent a pang of sadness through Miroku's heart. He recalled the anger in her eyes as they fought, the determination that had shone through her agony and weariness, more ferocious than Miroku had ever seen before. She'd been almost on the brink of death then, and still would not yield to her pain. The scar she now bore on her back was a reminder of that anguish, and a reminder to Miroku as well of just how tenacious Sango was. Though the memories of how broken and sorrowful Sango had been when they met caused his heart to ache, he felt his confidence in her renewed. Yes, Sango would be okay. He just needed to find her.

Miroku had moved deeper into the woods to put some distance between himself and the fighting, not wanting to become the victim of some wayward blast of lightning or swipe of Inuyasha's sword (assuming Inuyasha had managed to get himself free, which Miroku hoped was true). Though blue light still pulsed through the trees, it was fainter now, and he prayed he was nearing the far edge. As he stood a moment to get his bearings, he suddenly heard a strange, high pitched sound, completely out of place among the silence of the forest. Some kind of animal call? He listened more closely, and hope swelled in his chest as he began to recognize the small, intermittent squeaks. Could it be?

The squeaking continued until it seemed to be almost upon them, and then, in a flurry of yellow fluff, Kirara in her kitten-like form burst from the underbrush. She saw Miroku and instantly began running in frantic circles about his feet, her squeaks and cries sounding desperate.

"Kirara!" Miroku exclaimed, trying not to lose his footing as the tiny fire-cat weaved between his legs in figure eights. "What's going on, where's Sango?"

Upon hearing Sango's name, Kirara paused in her dizzying course, then began to yelp with even greater intensity, bounding forward into the bushes then returning quickly, repeating the movement two or three times before Miuko understood what she was doing.

"You know where she is, don't you?" He said. He stared into the darkness of the forest ahead of him and pushed his eyebrows into a determined glare. "Come on, Kirara, take me to her!"

Sango sat with her back against a fallen log, her injured leg splayed out in front of her. Shippo had done his best to remove the burnt fabric that had seared itself to her skin, which had not been an enjoyable experience for either of them, to say the least. Sango was able to grit her teeth and push through the pain, but the poor little fox demon had looked to be on the edge of fainting the entire time. He'd gotten through it though, and had even managed to get the wound wrapped up in some of the white gauze bandages that Kagome had given them for emergencies. There was no bleeding with burns, so at least they didn't have to worry about that. Sango knew that Shippo probably wouldn't have been able to stomach the task if there had been blood, seeing how pale and sick he had looked after just cleaning the wound. Aside from the burn itself, her whole leg had become blotchy red and swollen, and she could feel her pulse throbbing through it with every beat of her heart.

Sango exhaled a weary sigh and looked down at Shippo. After his harrowing ordeal doctoring her leg, he had curled up beside her and promptly fallen asleep. She forgot sometimes that he was still very much a child. She reached over and ran a hand affectionately through the fur on his head and scratched behind one of his ears, drawing out a happy sigh from the slumbering kit. Sango smiled weakly, her thoughts straying dangerously close to memories of her brother, Kohaku, and of all the times she had stroked his hair just like that to help him fall asleep. She quickly forced the memories away. She focused back on the pain of her burn to distract herself, which wasn't difficult to do considering her whole leg felt like it was covered in hot embers.

Sango bit her lip and breathed deeply through her nose, feeling trapped between the suffering of her heart and the agony of her wound, both inescapable. For a moment, a deep sense of loneliness engulfed her, and she felt hot tears threatening to spill over from her eyes. She cursed quietly to herself, hating how helpless she was. Why was she always so helpless? Why? A tear escaped to roll down her cheek, and then another, until finally she was choking out tiny, frustrated sobs as little rivulets flowed down her face and dripped off her jaw.

There was a rustle from the woods nearby, and out of the corner of her eye Sango spotted a tan-colored blur that must have been Kirara returning from where ever she'd run off to. Unwilling to tear her gaze away from where her fists where tightly balled in her lap, Sango continued her faint weeping, ignoring the yelps Kirara made as she scampered around in the bushes. Helpless. Weak. The words reverberated through her mind and stung her like nettles. Why was she always so...

"Sango!" A voice she recognized called out her name from nearby, and she pulled her gaze up just as a familiar face appeared beside her, brow creased with worry and forehead dripping with sweat as steely blue eyes locked with her own.

"Miroku?" Sango choked out, forgetting for a moment the tears on her face and the throbbing of her leg and the sorrow in her chest. Miroku's eyes were filled with an intensity she hadn't expected. The blue-grey of his irises seemed nearly black in that moment, shadowed by a seriousness Sango rarely ever saw in him.

"What happened? Are you alright? Why are you out here?" He began speaking frantically, waking Shippo who gave a little gasp of surprise before jumping up to hug Miroku around the neck. The monk ignored his new Shippo necklace and continued to gaze over Sango intently, his eyes finally landing on her bandaged leg.

"Dammit, you are hurt," he said, his face still scrunched up in that unfamiliar glare. "I thought so, when I realized you weren't fighting with Inuyasha anymore."

Sango stared at him as he inspected her leg, unable to force out any words between her surprise at his sudden arrival and the sobs that were still choking up her throat, which she was now desperately trying to swallow back down.

Miroku looked up at her again, and seemed to notice her tears for the first time. He opened his mouth like he was about to speak, but didn't get the chance.

"Ah! Miroku, who is that?!" Shippo suddenly gasped, pointing at the person draped across Miroku's shoulders. "Is.. is he dead?!"

Miroku sighed as he set the boy down on the ground. After assuring Shippo that the boy was still very much alive, he quickly relayed the story of how he and Kagome had found Hisato, and in turn how Kirara had appeared to lead them back. As he spoke, Sango regained her composure, trying to wipe the moisture from her eyes as subtly as she could. She'd been sure Miroku had seen her crying, yet now he was giving no indication at all if he truly had, scarcely looking her in the eyes except for a glance or two in between sentences. He asked no questions aside from the severity of her injury and what had happened during the fight. Once Sango had explained everything and assured him she would be fine, Miroku gave a curt nod and stood up to look around.

Sango eyed him carefully, waiting to see if he tried to shoot her any sideways glances or say anything further, but he didn't. He just maintained that serious expression that looked so out of place on his face. Sango didn't like it all. He seemed almost angry about something. Was he upset that she'd left Inuyasha behind? Was he irritated at now having to look after her?

"Shippo," Miroku said abruptly, turning to look down at the little fox.

"Yeah?" Shippo asked.

"Do you think you can go with Kirara back to the village where we had been staying before? They might have a healer, and Sango is going to need one as soon as possible. Inuyasha and Kagome too, for all we know." Miroku's tone was steady, calm.

"Yeah... I can do that," Shippo said wearily. "Are you sure you two will be alright?"

"Yes, just be swift, alright?"

"Right," Shippo said with a nod. "Come on, Kirara, let's go!"

Kirara bounded forward, bursting to her full size in a sputter of flames. Shippo hopped aboard her back once more, and in an instant the two were off, vanishing into the foggy haze above the trees.

"You shouldn't be sending him off alone," Sango muttered at Miroku, who had his back to her. "He's still young, you know."

Suddenly, Miroku's whole body tensed, his fists clenched at his sides as his shoulders went rigid.

"Miroku? Are you okay?" She asked, surprised by his sudden swing in mood.

Miroku bent his head toward the ground and said something in a voice so low Sango couldn't hear it.

"W-what?" She asked, leaning forward a bit.

Miroku sighed shakily, the tension releasing from his body as he slowly spun around to face her, his face still staring down at his feet. "I don't understand," he said, still just barely audible.

Sango cocked her head to one side. "You don't understand what?" She asked.

"I don't understand you, Sango," Miroku said, at last lifting his face to look at her directly. His cheeks were red and his eyes were watering. "How can you still be worried about Shippo when you're in this state? You can't even walk and you're still concerned about everyone else?" His voice was on the verge of breaking.

Sango inhaled and tried to speak, but nothing came out. She just stared back at him, her eyes wide and her mouth agape.

"I just… I don't understand…" Miroku said, looking away from her again, squeezing his eyes shut. "Out of all of us, you deserve this the least. After everything… and still… you still..." He let out an exasperated sigh, unable to come up with the right words.

"Miroku..." Sango found her voice finally, but she couldn't manage to say anything else, her own mind feeling like it was jumbled and incoherent.

Miroku took a few steps forward, then let his staff fall from his hands as he dropped to his knees in front of her, looking down at his lap. "I'm so sorry, Sango," he whispered. "I wish… that I could keep these things from happening to you."

Suddenly Sango saw reflected all the helplessness she was feeling. The strain in his voice, the slump of his shoulders, the glisten of sadness in his eyes - all of it was mirroring the doubt in her own heart. Without thinking, she reached out to grasp Miroku's hand, pushing her fingers between his to entwine them.

Startled, Miroku's eyes shot up to look at her. For a moment there was a tense silence, and then he let out a heavy breath, giving her hand a little squeeze. "You're stronger than I'll ever be, Sango," he said, gazing at her sadly. "You're incredible."

Without thinking, Sango gave a rueful laugh. "I'm not as strong as you think," she said, unable to hold back the bitterness in her voice. "Most of the time I just get through by pretending I'm fine, by ignoring the pain… and the fear."

Miroku nodded thoughtfully. "We're alike in that regard, I think." He looked down at the hand she was holding, which happened to be the one that was wrapped to conceal his wind tunnel.

Sango squeezed a little tighter. "Does it still scare you?" She asked, running her thumb across his, tracing the edges of the wrapping and eyeing the string of blue prayer beads that hung from his wrist.

"Yes," Miroku said without hesitation. "Every single day."

Sango felt her face scrunching into a scowl. "When we defeat Naraku, hopefully all this will be over for both of us," she said, spitting out the demon's name like a curse.

Surprisingly, Miroku let out a tiny chuckle, then placed his free hand over top of hers so that he was gripping it from both sides, encasing it with warmth. "That's what I mean," he said, looking up at her with his light-hearted smile at last. "You're still always ready to fight, and to protect. I've always liked that about you."

Sango raised an eyebrow at him and smiled back, feeling her cheeks getting hot enough to rival the burn in her leg. "You're really something else, Miroku," she said. "I don't know how you can always take these serious things and turn them into something to smile about. That's an impressive talent in itself, you know."

"Did you expect anything less than talent from such an esteemed monk?" Miroku said, tossing his head back and sticking his nose in the air in a farce of pompousness, though he snuck her a tiny wink. Under normal circumstance it would have been irritating, but Sango could only laugh.

"Jeez, do you have to ruin every moment with a bad line like that?" She said with a giggle.

"Of course not! I'm skilled at ruining moments in a variety of ways," he laughed.

"Oh right, like being a pervert?" Sango said, giving him a mischievous grin.

"That's my favorite way to ruin a moment!" Miroku said, leaning forward a bit so that his face was closer to hers, and Sango had no retreat since her back was still pressed up against the tree as far back as she could go. She gazed up at him, unsure what to expect as he moved close enough that she could see the little bloom of red across the apples of his cheeks.

The troublesome spark in his eyes faded for a moment, and he smiled a sweeter smile than she'd been expecting. "But, maybe just this once," he whispered. "I can behave myself. You are injured after all, I don't want you to exacerbate your wounds by hitting me too hard!"

Sango wasn't sure if she should laugh or chide him or be embarrassed. Her momentary turmoil was interrupted as a flash a bluish white light suddenly erupted from nearby, presumably from the direction of the clearing, enveloping everything around them. It was positively blinding, causing the trees to cast long black shadows that cut high contrasting streaks through the now otherwise glaringly bright landscape. The world looked like it had gone almost completely black and white. Sango and Miroku both held up their free hands to cover their eyes, and then heard the distant echoes of someone crying out in pain. After a few more moments, the light faded, leaving the two of them in darkness so abruptly that neither of them could see past their noses until their eyes had finally adjusted back to the dim light. When they could see one another again, they exchanged looks of alarm.

"What was that?" Sango asked.

"I don't know, but I don't think it was good," Miroku said. "Did you hear that yelling?

"Yeah, it almost sounded like-"

"Inuyasha," Miroku finished. "I need to go back and help them, I promised Kagome I would. It seems like they're in trouble."

The young monk moved to get to his feet, pulling his hand out of Sango's grasp as he stood. She instantly felt the cold air steal the warmth from her fingers, and she wished silently that it could have lasted just a moment longer.

"Sango, will you be alright here by yourself until Shippo returns?" Miroku asked, looking back down at her.

"Yes!" Sango said, maybe a little too defensively. She turned her face away to hide her sheepish pout. "I mean, yeah, I'll be fine."

Miroku smiled and picked up his staff. "Alright, just take it easy and don't move too much. Hisato shouldn't wake up anytime soon, but if he does, make sure he stays here and waits too. I will be back as soon as I can."

Sango nodded silently, and watched as Miroku began to walk away. He stopped just before the edge of the bushes, and looked over his shoulder at her. "By the way, Sango," he said with a cheeky grin. "Even with a crispy leg, I still think you look stunning! Your body has only gotten hotter!"

Miroku ducked quickly to avoid the large stone that Sango promptly hurled at him, chuckling as he vanished into the forest once more. He called a last goodbye between his laughter, and then he was gone.

Sango stared after him, her face pinched irately though she couldn't manage to hold it that way for long. Miroku was such an idiot, she thought, but she couldn't really bring herself to be angry about it. Even though her leg was aching (and her dignity was a little wounded to boot), she felt as though a weight was off her shoulders. Miroku was a pain, no two ways about that. Yet he had managed to chase her loneliness away with only a few kind words and a smile. Sango leaned back against the tree trunk, staring up at the spindly branches above. She sighed loudly, feeling that dangerous little twitch of her heart as she thought of Miroku's soft gaze and the way his hands had felt wrapped around hers. Yes, Miroku was an idiot. And so was she.