The days moved slowly by, as the group including Inuyasha, tended to the elder monk. After two more days, the monk's fever had left him completely, leaving Mushin feeling slightly weary yet eager to get back to his duties. When news of the monk regaining from the fever reached Miroku, he breathed a long sigh of relief.
Sitting on the grass near his father's grave, he stared up at the sky silently. He did not have enough time to truly appreciate his childhood home. Soon they would back on the road as Inuyasha was eager to continue on. Miroku felt saddened by this, but knew it had to be done. The sooner Naraku was dead the sooner he and Sango could continue their lives together.
The thought made his cheeks brighten though he tried to fight it. Why did the thought embarrass him? This is what he wanted all his life. Perhaps it was because Miroku had trained himself to think otherwise, to not dwell on dreams and to focus on his present reality. Even in his encounters with women, he kept them brief and emotionally distant, but with Sango he was completely different. He gave everything to her, always rushing to be the first to comfort her when she was upset, fighting to understand the deep crevices of her mind. To understand the subtle looks and touches she gave him. Miroku smiled to himself.
He thought of Sango in his bed, her hair hanging messily around her face, shining in the morning sun. She was perfect for him, like the missing piece of a broken clay pot. She fit perfectly in his arms and his heart. There was no doubt he would love this woman forever.
He was shook from his thoughts by Inuyasha yelling at him from the balcony. Turning his head casually over his shoulder, he smirked as he watched the half demon being snapped at by Kagome. Rising gracefully to his feet, his heart leapt as he saw Sango walking around the corner to join Kagome and Inuyasha. He couldn't help but smile as he watched her confidently step between the two, calling for peace. Her head turned to him slowly, her eyes locking with his.
All other sounds and sights seemed to melt around them as they locked gazes. But as soon as the moment began, it was over, as both hid the looks from thier squabbling friends.
Miroku clenched his staff as he walked slowly toward the temple, his head swirling with a collection of thoughts. As he neared the others, he caught a glimpse of Sango holding her stomach. Frowning slightly, he brushed the sight off as nothing more than his imagination.