Disclaimer: I do hereby disclaim all rights and responsibilities for the characters in this confrontation... especially for the one who's been slighted. A nod of recognition is bent towards Rumiko Takahashi for her creative prowess.

This oneshot was originally posted to Live Journal on March 1, 2011.

Public Declaration

When Sango was angry, she was a force to be reckoned with, so Kohaku reckoned carefully before stepping through his front door. The twelve-year-old was almost positive he hadn't inspired the fracas currently underway, so he slipped out of his sandals and followed his ears to see why his big sister was upset. He found the fifteen-year-old in the living room, arms waving and feet stomping as she paced back and forth, ranting against an as-yet-unnamed offender.

Shippo and Kagome were also there, and while the kitsune seemed amused by the goings-on, Kagome was visibly distraught. She sat in the middle of the floor, both hands covering her mouth and a tragic expression in her eyes. "What happened?" Kohaku asked quietly, bringing Sango's tirade to a screeching halt.

"That idiot stole Kagome's first kiss!" Sango raged.

Kohaku paled and asked, "Who?"

Her brown eyes sparked, and she spat out, "Who else?"

Shippo calmly informed, "The young monk, Miroku, has been up to his usual mischief."

Kagome looked to be on the verge of tears. "I'm so sorry, Sango. I don't know why he'd do something like that to me! I never expected...!"

"It's not your fault!" Sango interrupted, her arm slashing through the air. "He's just a lech."

Kohaku had to agree. Each year that Mushin's apprentice returned to Midori, he'd reinforced his reputation as a ladies' man, working his way through the camp, sweet-talking those whose lashes fluttered and stealing kisses from the unwary.

The young taijiya was privately furious that Kagome had fallen victim to the monk, but he knew better than to reveal the enormity of his feelings. It was his duty to calm Sango, comfort Kagome, and then kill Miroku. However, before he could take charge, Sango reached her own decision. She whirled towards the door, declaring, "I'll kill him!"

Great minds think alike, her brother thought with grim satisfaction.

"No, Sango!" Kagome protested.

Quicker than Kohaku could follow, Shippo moved to stand between Sango and the front door. Catching the young woman's arm he politely announced, "Kohaku and I will deliver the challenge. Prepare yourself and wait in the gathering meadow."

Sango bristled, then offered a curt nod of acceptance.

Kohaku fell in step beside the tall kitsune and shyly said, "Thanks."

"Oh, I have experience dealing with Yamauchi women," Shippo replied with a crooked smile. "They've always been a little scary... but in a good way."

"My mother wasn't scary!" he protested.

"Mmm," the kitsune hummed, his four tails swaying in a hypnotic rhythm as he led the way towards the river. "I could argue that she married into the clan, but I can remember a few times when your mother proved just how fierce she could be."

"Like when?" the boy asked curiously. He was always hungry for new stories about her.

"Like the day she made your father stand up and take notice," he replied with a chuckle. "Yama-kun always was a little dense about women. Not like you."

Kohaku blushed and muttered, "I'm not good with girls."

"Oh, you'll be fine," Shippo assured. "It may be more interesting to see how things work out for your sister."

"Huh?"

"That Miroku knows how to get what he wants," the kitsune declared. "Very clever. Very cunning. It's been a quite a while since I met a human this audacious."

Kohaku frowned up at his family's longstanding friend and said, "You almost sound like you admire him."

The kitsune conceded, "I suppose I do. He thinks like a fox!"

"But... he's terrible!"

"I don't think it would be wise to set yourself against him, Kohaku-kun," Shippo cautioned.

"Why not?" he replied, baffled.

"Let's just say he has the makings of a good ally," the redhead replied with a wink.

They found the seventeen-year-old down by the river, sparring with the other monks-in-training. His audience was made up of some of the sillier girls who called Midori home, along with a handful of campers as well. Front and center were Miroku's fanboys—the quartet of tanuki who'd latched onto him the summer before. They made the cutest little sycophants, and Mr. Yamauchi had urged Kohaku to encourage the young demons in their ardent admiration. Shichi, Roku, Hachi, and Kyuu aided the entire village by providing bright-eyed, bushy-tailed chaperonage for their resident lady killer.

Shippo called Miroku out, and with a wave to his friends, the teen ambled over to the kitsune and headman's son. "Good afternoon," he greeted with an easy smile. "What can I do for the two of you?"

"You're being challenged."

Miroku didn't bother to look surprised. "Now?"

"Yep," Shippo confirmed.

"Lead the way!"

By the time they reached the gathering meadow, half the residents of Midori were milling along its edges. In the center of the field, Sango stood in full taijiya attire. Kohaku noted with some surprise that his sister had knotted a deep red sash at her waist. Mother's. For whatever reason, the girl wanted their mother to bear witness to this confrontation.

"Now, that's been worth the wait," remarked Miroku in a low voice.

Kohaku turned to him in surprise, and there was no mistaking the admiration on the young monk's face. Glancing between him and his sister, the boy demanded, "Was this your goal?"

Miroku leaned against his staff and offered a vague, "I wonder."

"I would fight you myself," the twelve-year-old said with a surly look.

"Is that so?" he asked with mock solemnity. His violet eyes scanned the growing crowd and soon picked out Kagome from the rest. "Tell me, Kohaku-kun. Are you angry for your sister's sake... or for Kagome-chan's?"

The taijiya's expression darkened, and he stoutly declared, "You should not kiss so many girls."

Miroku politely replied, "I admire the singularity of your focus." His gaze returned to his waiting opponent, and he confided, "My goal is not so different."

All at once, Kohaku understood the monk's ambition, and it made his blood run cold. This young man was taller than him, stronger than him, surer than him, and he was after Sango. I need to protect her. Grabbing Miroku's arm, he sternly said, "Do not try to use my sister. You are mistaken if you think she can make you headman one day."

For once, the older boy looked startled. His expression shifted into seriousness as he quietly replied, "You misunderstand, Kohaku-kun. I believe your sister will one day make me a happy man. The sooner she realizes this, the better." With a solemn wink, he strolled off to formally accept Sango's challenge.

"Thought so," Shippo quipped, his green eyes fairly dancing. "This is going to be very interesting."

Miroku may have had a greater reach and more strength than his opponent, but he quickly discovered that it would be unwise to let down his guard. Fury made Sango deadly. Kohaku shifted nervously from foot to foot as his eyes followed his sister's attacks. She's putting too much of herself into each blow; she will tire long before he gets serious.

"What's happening?" Kagome begged softly. Even after a few years as a summer camper, she wasn't very good at reading the flow of a battle.

"I don't think she can beat him, let alone kill him," he answered honestly.

"I doubt she wants to," Kagome whispered back.

Kohaku was surprised enough to look away from the conflict. "Why not?"

"She has her reasons."

Shippo leaned down between them and casually remarked, "It might interest you to know that if the rumors are true, as of today, that boy has kissed every teenaged girl in this camp... save one."

"Sango?" whispered Kohaku. Was it possible that his sister felt slighted?

As the match wore on, the two combatants fell into a sort of pattern. Sango's attacks dictated Miroku's actions, but he only defended himself. Retreating before her onslaught, he led her in a widening circle while the audience continued to swell. Then, suddenly, Miroku danced backwards, drawing Sango towards the very center of the meadow. What happened next happened quickly. She swung; he ducked. She raised her staff for another blow, and he neatly stepped under her guard... and stole a kiss.

A collective gasp filled the air, followed by startled silence. Sango froze in shock, and Miroku brazenly took his time. When he drew back, he spoke a few words to the wide-eyed young woman, then sauntered away. Shippo snorted, and several of the other demons in the audience exchanged knowing looks or chuckled. "What did he say?" Kohaku demanded anxiously, his eyes still fixed on his sister.

"He told her he saved the best for last," the kitsune relayed. "And if she wants them, all the rest of his kisses are hers."

"Is that some kind of proposal?" Kagome gasped.

"Not in the traditional sense, but I think he enjoys being unconventional," Shippo replied. "Now, let's go rescue the poor girl. I think that staff is the only thing holding her up."

The three of them hurried to shield the dazed young woman from the crowd's curiosity. "Are you hurt?" Kohaku asked.

"No."

"Do you want me to go after him?" he ventured.

Sango simply shook her head, and Kagome slipped her arm around her best friend's waist. "I'm sorry you lost," she offered with a sympathetic squeeze.

"I didn't," Sango replied, her voice barely more than a whisper. "He conceded."

"Come here, little warrior," Shippo cheerfully urged, scooping the young woman into his arms and striding away from the excited chatter of the crowds. Kohaku rescued her staff and walked with Kagome in the family kitsune's wake.

"I can walk," Sango grumbled.

"Really? Your knees seem a little weak."

The young woman stubbornly declared, "He's still an idiot."

Shippo nodded sagely and said, "And a fine specimen of idiocy he is!"

"You think?" she asked in a small voice.

With a gentle squeeze, he whispered, "Your mother would approve."

For the rest of the journey back to the headman's house, Sango hid her face against the kitsune's broad shoulder, for blushing ran in the family.

End Note: This oneshot was originally written for the Live Journal community iyfic contest and their prompt for Week #240—Rumor Has It. 1,675 words.