"Sango."
She stirs, the sound of his warm voice and soft touch on her shoulder flooding her senses. She blinks the sleep from her eyes as she glances around, not recognizing her location in the dark. Her gaze falls on her companion. The overhead light shines on him like a spotlight. Her attention momentarily flickers to the dashboard. The clock reads close to one in the morning.
"We're home." He smiles at her. His hand still rests on her shoulder where he gently shook her awake. It weighs heavy, like a blanket. Warm. "Did you have a nice nap?"
"I fell asleep?" she mumbles. She stretches her legs as much as she can in the small space of the car, rubbing her eyes. The long day must have caught up with her. "Sorry, I didn't mean to. You must be tired too. It's late."
"Nah, you know me. Always sleeping in, by your standards anyway. I'm what they call a night owl, miss early bird."
She laughs. The movement jostles his hand from her shoulder. It falls to his lap. The residual warmth lingers momentarily. "I don't think I'll be waking up that early tomorrow…er, today? Traveling makes time so confusing. I guess the trip wore me out more than I had first thought."
"Rough trip?"
"It was the worst," she sighs, unbuckling her seatbelt with nimble fingers. She tugs on the door handle and exits the car after Miroku. "The ride was so turbulent that I couldn't get a nap in. I've been up for about twenty hours. I can't wait to curl up in my own bed with Kirara and sleep in for once."
"She's quite the cuddler," Miroku says, opening the trunk and throwing her backpack over his shoulder. He hoists the suitcase out, holding the poster he made in the other hand. "She slept with me every night you were gone."
Traitor, Sango thinks. Instead, she says, "I didn't know you put your car in the garages around here. Explains why I've never seen your mustang out."
They exit and Miroku hits the clicker that closes the door behind them. The sound reverberates around them in the still air. "Gotta protect my baby from the elements and people who don't care about cars."
"Makes sense, I guess." Sango realizes her hands are empty and stares up at him, nose pinched. "Wait, why are you holding all of my things? I am perfectly capable of bringing my luggage up to our apartment."
"You're tired," he says with a simple shrug that leaves no room for argument. "I don't mind helping."
"But…at least let me carry the poster."
"Nope," Miroku says, eyes glinting. "Unless you want to hang it up in your room?"
"As if," she huffs, turning away to stalk toward the stairs that lead to their apartment. "I'm not some teenage girl who hangs posters up on their walls."
He sighs wistfully. "What I would have given to have met you in your teenage years. I bet you had band posters hung in your room with some handsome heartthrobs you secretly had crushes on. What was your type? Tall, dark hair, and blue eyes?"
She snorts, trying to calm her heart once she realizes he described himself. She climbs the stairs ahead of him. "As if! If you think that then you obviously don't know me well at all."
"I bet that Sango let loose a bit and could stand a little teasing."
She rolls her eyes. "Just because you don't get the reaction you want doesn't mean I can't handle your teasing, Monk. I think I handle it perfectly well and then some."
"On the contrary, I love the reactions I get out of you," he says with a wink, setting down her suitcase to rummage for the key to their apartment. "I always get such joy in making your face turn red. Much like it's doing now."
She gapes at him, touching her cheek gingerly. "It…it is not!"
He chuckles. "See what I mean? Exactly the reaction I was hoping for. You're too easy, Sango."
She puffs her cheek, shoulders deflating. "What, are you trying to make up for the week I was gone?"
"Think of it as payback for ignoring me."
"Touché."
The door swings open. She hits the light-switch and light floods the apartment. Kirara's chirping fills her ears from the living room. She hops down from her perch, tail flickering as she pads over to the pair.
"Oh, my baby, did you miss me?" Sango croons, bending down to scratch the cat behind the ears. Kirara allows a few pets before making her way to Miroku to rub against his legs, purring. "I guess that's a no."
Miroku sets down Sango's backpack next to her suitcase, shutting the door behind him. He laughs, picking Kirara up. "We bonded while you were away. I'm sure she will forgive you for leaving soon enough." He rubs against her nose with his own.
The sight melts her heart, and she can't help the smile that tugs at her lips. "I'm sure. It normally takes her a day." She glances toward the living area. "When…what is that perch doing there?"
"Oh that?" Miroku asks, cradling a content Kirara in his arms. "I bought it."
"You bought that?"
"I see your sleep-deprived brain is having trouble keeping up. Yes, she was always trying to go on my lap while I was writing, so I bought her a cat-tower of her own so she can be near me without being on me."
"I can pay you back."
Miroku blinks, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "What?"
"For the cat-tower."
"I didn't ask you to?"
"Right, but she's my cat and she's bothering you."
He shakes his head, a small chuckle falling from his lips. "She's never a bother, nor are you. I just wanted her to have her own space out here. You don't have to pay me back for anything. Money wise anyway," he says with a waggle of his eyebrows.
She resists the urge to shove him. "Yeah, yeah. Well, thank you. I'm gonna hit the hay. It's late and I'm exhausted. Thanks for picking me up and taking care of my cat. I appreciate it."
A soft smile graces his features. "Anything for you, my dearest Sango."
Ducking her head, she grabs her backpack and suitcase, making a beeline for her room before he can see the flush on her face. No way she would give him that satisfaction. Shutting the door behind her, she throws the backpack down next to her suitcase. Sango shimmies out of her clothes and rummages around for some pajamas. She's about to jump into bed when she notices a box on her nightstand. Perplexed, she picks it up, inspecting the package.
It's not wrapped. There's no name on it, but it's undoubtedly for her. She opens it, almost dropping it in surprise when she peers inside. Brand-new running shoes. She recalls the other week she complained that hers were getting old and how she wanted a new pair. Black with dark pink accents. The exact one she had been looking at online while they were watching TV on the couch.
"Miroku," she breathes, eyes burning. "This is too much. You're too much."
She gently places the shoes back in the box and puts it back on the nightstand. She peers out of the room for any sight of her roommate. Only darkness awaits to greet her. Miroku must have gone to bed already, she surmises. She walks over to his room and timidly knocks on the door.
"Miroku? You still awake?" she whispers.
The door immediately opens. Miroku is shirtless, his sweatpants clinging low on his hips. Her eyes drift, momentarily admiring his lean build. She imagines what his muscles would feel like under her fingertips. How his eyes would darken as she tugged at the hem, sending him a coy look of her own.
"Ah, Sango. Couldn't stay away, could you?"
Her eyes widen as she fights the fire in her cheeks, his voice dowsing water and drowning her daydream. "Put on a shirt, would you?" she barks out, embarrassed by how easily her thoughts drifted to such dangerous territory.
His lips tip up a fraction. "You don't like the view?"
"I'm having flashbacks to the last time I saw you shirtless," she mutters, eyes trained on his blues so she won't be tempted to ogle him again. "You tried to grab my ass."
He leans against the doorframe, unphased. "That was a while ago. I've been on my best behavior. Can't help that I like to sleep nu—"
"I don't need to know that," she all but screeches, face burning at the thought. She sucks in a deep, stabilizing breath. "I just wanted to come and say thank you for the shoes."
"You needed a new pair," he says simply. "Can't have my favorite running partner complaining about sore feet and injuring herself. You never spend money on yourself, so someone has to spoil you."
She opens her mouth and then shuts it, unsure of how to respond to that. She tucks her hair behind her ear, glancing down at her bare toes. "Stop."
"Stop what?"
"Just…stop whatever you're doing, ok?" she says, exasperated. "I'm not your new charity case."
He frowns. He rubs the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, you think I'm treating you like a charity case?"
"Well, you just bought Kirara a new cat tower and expensive shoes for me. I know I can't always afford new things since I'm helping Kohaku out, but you don't need to do anything for me. I'm not asking for it."
"I know you're not asking for it," he says, face contorted in confusion. "It's called doing something nice for a friend. I care about you."
"But I can't repay it," she insists. "I can't repay your kindness."
"What do you mean? You already do."
It's Sango's turn to be confused. "I haven't bought you anything?"
"You repay it in other ways," he says with a soft smile. "I'm grateful for our friendship."
Friend. Friendship. Her heart constricts tightly in her chest. She grimaces. They are friends. Just friends. This is exactly what she wanted, wasn't it? The reason she ignored him all week. To put some distance between whatever was brewing between them. She should be happy. This is what she wanted. This is what she wanted. This is what she wants.
Wasn't it?
"Sango?"
Miroku is inches from her, studying her face with concern. He reaches out, like he's going to touch her face. She braces for him, closing her eyes. She holds her breath. When she opens her eyes again, his hand is back around the nape of his neck. His eyes look indigo in the dim light.
"It wasn't band posters," she blurts out suddenly, shocking both herself and Miroku.
"What?"
"On my walls as a teenager," she says, playing with a string on the hem of her sleepshirt. "It wasn't band posters."
"Okay?"
She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth. "It was police posters. Or badges, to be exact. My dad used to collect them for me. I had an entire wall filled with different police logos from around our area, or whatever area we traveled to."
His features soften. "You know what? I think that fits you much better, anyway. I can see you as a cop."
She stiffens. She stares so hard at the floor she imagines burning a hole through it. "Yeah, well, dreams change."
She jumps at the weight of his hand on her head. He ruffles her hair, lightly. "Dreams change," he echoes. "Nothing wrong with that. Speaking of which, it's late. Go have some sweet dreams tonight for me, will you?"
"Who says stuff like that anyway," she mutters, knocking his hand off her head. "Say something normal, like don't let the bedbugs bite, weirdo."
He laughs. The sound makes her ears burn. "Goodnight, Sango."
"Night, Miroku." She pads back to her room, hesitating at the door to shoot him a brief smile. He waits to close his door until she's out of sight.
Sango awakens on a plane.
It's dark. Black cumulonimbus clouds swirl outside, lighting illuminating the edges as thunder cracks in the distance. A few overhead lights flicker. An ominous feeling settles in the pit of her stomach as the plane lurches fleetingly.
A hand encompasses her own. Large. Sturdy. Safe. Brown eyes crinkle down at her. "Just a little turbulence, Sango," he says, patting her arm with his free hand. "We will be fine."
"Father." Her voice is a mere whisper. Tears prick at the corners of her eyes, but the feeling passes as quickly as it came. "You think? That storm outside seems really bad…"
"I know so. Pilots navigate this kind of weather all the time. We'll be home in no time. Right, Kohaku?"
Her brother glances up from his novel. To Kill A Mockingbird. He has a report due for school next week. "Right, Father."
Sango relaxes, sinking into the chair. Her feet bump against the seat in front of her. The hairs on the back of her neck stand on end like a warning. Like something isn't quite right.
The lights flicker again.
"I'm going to head to the restroom and stretch my legs," her father says, unbuckling his seatbelt. "You kids stay here. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
"Be safe," Sango murmurs, giving him some room to exit to the aisle. Her eyes trail back to the window, big drops of water hitting the window with such force she thinks it'll crack under their pressure. The plane drops for a moment before settling back in altitude. Her nails dig against the hard plastic of the armrests. She's sure she'll leave dents in her wake.
Kohaku is seemingly unphased by the turbulence. He reaches over and squeezes her hand. "It'll be alright, Sis." His brown eyes shine with warmth.
She cracks a weak smile. "When did you become so old and wise?"
"You taught me to be brave."
She doesn't feel brave right now. She feels out of control. Like she's having an out of body experience. "I need to get some air," she murmurs, sucking in a deep breath as the plane shakes under the pressure of thunder booming around them. The lights cut off. The air masks cascade from the ceiling around them. The strings bounce along with the rhythm of the plane. The only illumination is from the lightning outside the cabin, spreading through the sky like the web of a spider.
She stands, gripping the tops of the empty seat in front of her. The navy-blue fabric squeezes beneath her fingers. There's the sensation of being on a boat in rough waters as she walks down the aisle. The wind hitting against the plane seems to push it in all directions, sending her along with it. The only sound is her heavy breathing, trying to calm herself. In the nose. Out the mouth. She grips the top of another empty seat as she makes her way toward the bathroom to make sure her father is alright. Or to be sick.
The bathrooms are empty. She glances around, making brief eye-contact with her brother. A fake smile encompasses her lips. She can't worry him. She can't let him know her Father isn't in the bathroom like he said he was. Where did he go? He didn't come back their way; they would have noticed. That leaves one location. The cockpit.
Fingers brace against the door handle. The metal is cool beneath the tips of her fingers. That sense of dread shoots through her veins against. It weighs heavy on her mind. A warning. Don't open the door. Don't. Don't. Don't.
She opens it.
Someone is screaming. High-pitched. Terror-filled. It takes a moment for her to realize that it's her screams. She comes back into her body, clamping her hands over her mouth. To stop the screams. To stop from being sick. They shake against her lips. Tears fall fat against her hands. They slide over her knuckles and down her neck. They fall onto her father's crumbled body, mixing with the blood pooling on the carpet. They stain her white shoes. She doesn't take a step back. It's like the blood has frozen her to the spot, rendering her unable to move. The warmth soaks her feet.
"How nice of you to join us, Sango."
She blinks the moisture from her eyes, head snapping up. The hairs on her arm stand on end. Goosebumps form as a chill shakes her body. They aren't alone. A plane can't fly itself, after all.
His voice is as deep as the thunder outside. Menacingly calm. His hair is as dark as the clouds. Long. Tangled. He turns in his chair slowly. His mouth is tipped with an amused smile. Bloodshot eyes watch her with a calculating stare. Narrowed in warning.
Her heart constricts in recognition.
"Naraku."
I am SO excited to see your reactions to this chapter! I've had most of it written for a while now...but the last part really had me stuck for a bit. I knew what I wanted to write, but getting it onto paper was another story. I just finished up tonight, so if you see any errors please let me know! I hope I did it justice...please let me know what you think! I can't wait for you all to see what happens next ;)