Maybe Someday: A Miroku x Sango Love Story

*Disclaimer: * Feh. As if I could author an incredibly popular manga, which has been running for seven years and counting, has had two movies made of it besides an animated series, and has 14-18% of the population of Japan watching it.

A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers, especially those who said that Miroku was more or less IC. Oh and I just checked my stats: I'm on the favorite authors list of four whole members! They are: Kaylana, Quacked Jimbob, Sango-chan, and mkb14. Thanks a million, please keep me on your list and don't remove me!

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Miroku cursed fluently under his brearth as he felt himself weakening. But he couldn't show weakness now…not when he needed to save Sango. Taking off his violet outerrobe, he ripped it into pieces and quickly bound Sango's worst wounds with it. He winced as he saw the amount of blood flowing freely from her many wounds. Gingerly, Miroku created a sling for her broken arm. Using the rest of the cloth, he wrapped a few of the strips around his arms and once around his head. Glancing ruefully at his work, he decided that it would have to do for now.

Miroku picked Sango and the tiny, unconcious Kirara up and also slung Hiraikotsu over his shoulder. He staggered for a moment under the weight, once more wondering how Sango could carry the thing around all day all the time.

Leaving the caracasses of the demons behind, Miroku went as fast as he could toward the north. The sky was completely dark now, the moon still not completely up. He stumbled over tree roots, ruts in the road, but doggedly continued on.

'Save Sango,' he said over and over in his mind. 'Save Sango, save Sango…'

~*~*~*~*~*

The sky had turned an inky black as the night wore on. Miroku honestly didn't know how long he could last. He too had had a dose of the demon's poison, and while he wasn't as badly injured as Sango, he was still in rough condition.

Miroku glanced up when the moon was one-quarter risen. He had been looking at the ground, watching his way so as not to stumble and injure Sango and himself more. There! The moonlight shone on a tiny hut with thatched roof and a large garden. Miroku sighed happily and quickly picked his way over to the hut.

To all appearances it was deserted. He shouldered his way into the hut, since the door was unlocked, and called out. "Hello? Is anyone here?" Not hearing an answer, Miroku decided that he would set Sango down now and stay awake until the owner of the hut came back. Surely they would understand, thought Miroku, that he had done what was proper under the circumstances, as one of his friends was hurt.

The hut was not totally dark. A small fire, much larger at one point in time, still burned in the surprisingly large hearth. A dark pot still hung over the pot. Finding some firewood handy, Miroku tossed some logs in and watched as the fire roared into sudden life.

The hut was sparsely furnished, divided into two parts: the living area and the sleeping area. The entire setup was only three rooms, including a kitchen. Miroku thought, as he searched for some blankets, that whoever lived in the hut must have been moderately poor. He couldn't find any blankets, but he couldn't waste more time looking for them. He took off his own remaining robes, until he was in his underrobes, and laid them across the ground next to the fire. He placed Sango on the blanket and knelt next to her, watching how her wounds still bled and hoping that someone would come soon. He couldn't take care of her himself.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Who's there?" a sharp voice demanded.

Miroku leapt to his feet from the kneeling position he was earlier. It had been a few hours since he had found the hut, and all through he had been awake, staring into the fire and watching Sango anxiously, feeling frustrated he couldn't do anything. It wasn't his fault, though! The person who normally lived in the hut obviously didn't expect to ever have a seriously wounded person as a guest, because there had been no bandages or medicines of any kind.

"Who's there?" the voice demanded again. It was that of a woman, middle-aged Miroku guessed, and obviously a spinster. "I tell you, if you're a robber or a thief then you really have it comin'!"

The owner of the voice came in, and, as Miroku had guessed, was a small middle-aged woman with a sharp face and gray hair. Already to his feet, Miroku bowed only slightly and replied as smoothly as ever.

"Pardon me, Auntie*," he said. "This young girl, Sango, was seriously injured in a battle agianst youkai. I was looking for shelter for her, and care also. If you could direct me to the nearest priestess…"

"Bah!" the woman said. "What do you need those village priestesses for? I am a healer myself!"

Miroku looked perplexed. "And yet, when I searched for bandages, herbs, medicines…"

"Well, you weren't looking hard enough," she admonished him. She made her way in quick steps to the kitchen, where she opened a cabinet and pulled out a bundle of medicines, bandages and herbs. She came back to the fire and set them down, rolling up her sleeves. "Now, what is the problem?"

Miroku told the healer about Sango's injuries. "She has a broken arm, and various other cuts and lacerations on her arms, stomach, legs, chest. I thank you…?"

"Kourin," she gave her name.

"Kourin Auntie," Miroku finished. Kourin glanced sharply at him.

"You are not without your own injuries," she said.

Miroku shrugged. "They are nothing. Sango… Sango may die if she is not treated." He glanced down at Sango's flushed face as he said the last part. Kourin nodded understandingly.

"I see. Now can you help me?" Miroku replied in the affirmative. Gently, he peeled Sango's clothes off, grimacing when he saw the old scars and the new cuts on her pale, otherwise smooth skin. Kourin mixed herbs and applied a salve to Sango's physical injuries, creating a better sling for her broken arm.

Sango, still unconcious, shivered violently at times and sweated profusely at others. Kourin, noticing this, asked Miroku, "Was there any poison involved?"

"Yes," Miroku replied sadly, "she was cut by poisoned claws." Kourin nodded but otherwise didn't say anything, and for a while they worked together on Sango, silent. After a while, when Kourin and Miroku were almost done, the healer broke the silence.

"What is young Sango to you?" she asked softly, nonchalantly, as if she were just making small talk. In truth, she wanted to know why the girl was so important to the monk that he would completely ignore his own injuries to save her first.

Miroku didn't look at Kourin when he replied. "I have known her for some time," he answered. "We…we are close friends." Kourin stared hard at him once more before smiling secretly to herself and tying the last bits of bandage around Sango.

"There!" she said. "I'm all finished." Her smile faded as she looked Miroku full in the eye. "However," she continued, "your friend here has taken in a moderate amount of poison. It has the potential to kill her." Miroku glanced up sharply, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. Packing up her materials, Kourin continued with the disturbing news. "I have given her medicines," she said, "but there is only so much I can do." She shook her head. "It's up to the fates now."

Miroku frowned and returned Kourin's gaze. "She will not die," he said with quiet conviction. He broke his stare with Kourin and turned his eyes on Sango's turbulent face. "She cannot die. She has unfinished business to attend to." Miroku took a more comfortable position on the floor next to Sango. "Rest," he told the healer. "You have worked hard tonight. I will watch over her."

Kourin nodded and rose easily to her feet, yawning. "Thank you, Houshi-sama," she said. "I will be in the next room on the futon if you need me."

Miroku listened to Kourin's fading footsteps as he watched over Sango. He brushed a few strands of hair tenderly from her sweaty face and knelt over her, gently, gently brushing his lips across her forehead.

"Don't die," he whispered in her ear. "Don't die."

Miroku relaxed into a semi-meditative state, readying himself for whatever may come.

~*~*~*~*~*

It was three or four days later when Sango's fever broke. Miroku, who was on watch at the time, sat up straighter as Sango stirred. During the past week, Miroku, with help from Kourin, had re-dressed Sango's wounds, administered medicine and rubbed healing salve over her. Every single hour that Sango didn't wake only made Miroku lose hope that she would ever get better. However, during all those hours that became days, he had stayed up, never sleeping, only occasionally consuming food.

Sango, finally over her illness, moaned softly and blinked her eyes a few times before they focused. The first thing they saw was Miroku's violet eyes gazing anxiously at her face. He smiled broadly when he realized she was awake.

"Sango," he whispered, still smiling. He wrapped her into a gentle embrace. She tensed against the sudden motion. Miroku put his face on the crook between her neck and shoulder. "I was so worried…that you might not make it." Brought out of his semi-meditative state, Miroku felt his own injuries take their toll on his body, and he collapsed on the floor next to Sango.

"Houshi-sama?" Sango said as loudly as she could, pushing away from him. "Houshi-sama!" She attempted to move and found herself still sore, her broken arm still painful. She groaned but managed to pull herself into a sitting position. "Houshi-sama, what's wrong?" Miroku didn't answer and Sango looked around for someone to help.

After an hour or so though, Sango still immobile, Kourin the healer came home.

"Ah!" she said, upon seeing Sango, "you're awake, are you?"

"Yes, Auntie," said Sango, "but Houshi-sama…" she gestured to the unconscious monk. Kourin clucked her tongue.

"I figured his injuries would show themselves sooner or later," she muttered. Quickly though, still muttering under her breath about foolish houshi, she brought new blankets along with her bundle of medicines. Noticing Sango was rendered immobile, Kourin treated Miroku's wounds herself.

"Kourin Auntie," said Sango anxiously, "how bad is he?"

"He has minor physical injuries," said Kourin carefully. "Luckily, his wounds didn't get infected. However…" Kourin trailed off.

"What, Kourin Auntie?" Sango asked, attempting once more to stand.

"You shouldn't stand yet," Kourin told her. Sango fixed her with a stare and the healer sighed. "However…he too suffered poisoning. And though the effects haven't shown themselves for the past week- when you were sick- I fear that they will come back doubly bad now."

"Does that mean…" Sango looked from Kourin to Miroku, "…that Houshi-sama will die of his wounds?" Sango remembered what Miroku had told her of the old woman's prophecy: "…ye shall die within the fortnight…" The demon-slayer did some calculations and figured they had been out on the road a week. That meant there was only one more week left…maybe not even that, if Miroku didn't get better.

Kourin, noticing how Sango's actions so mirrored Miroku's, gave a sad smile. She placed a comforting hand on the younger woman's shoulder. "He'll live," she reassured Sango. "I don't think he'd just die…and leave certain people." Sango looked at Miroku once more and wiped his sweaty brow with a cool cloth.

"I hope so," she said softly. "I sincerely hope so."

**

After coming home from her rounds that day, Kourin found Sango kneeling next to Miroku. She was absentmindedly stroking the now-healed Kirara, silent. Once in a while, though, she would start talking to the monk, simple sentences telling him that he'd get better and they'd get to the Lake before time ran out. Kourin once again smiled that sad smile and came kneel across from Sango, on Miroku's other side.

"Will you help me readminster his medicine and change his bandages?" Kourin asked, already taking out her supplies. Sango silently took a sponge and herbs and began to gently cleanse Miroku's head wound.

"You know," Kourin said after a few minutes' silence. "You're a lucky girl." Sango glanced up sharply. Her family and villagers had been slaughtered by her possessed younger brother who had also tried to kill her; she was on a quest with a half-dog-demon and a girl from the future not to mention a fox-demon and a lecherous monk to seek the shards of the Sacred Jewel; and she was currently on another side-quest with only the lecherous monk for company, besides the fact that the same monk would die within the next week. No, Sango did not consider herself lucky.

Kourin continued while tending Miroku, not looking at Sango. "I mean, you're a lucky girl to have such a caring husband."

Sango blushed and shook her head. "It's not like that," she said. "We're companions on a quest." Kourin looked up for a moment, scrutinizing Sango, then went back to her work.

"He stayed up through all the days you were sick," Kourin continued. "This young monk disregarded his own injuries and never left your side during the four days you were ill."

Sango snorted. "I bet," she said. "He was just trying to cop a feel on me while I couldn't react."

Kourin shrugged. "I don't know but that the monk's only actions were to help clean your wounds and pray for you. As far as I know, he never once tried to…touch…you in a perverse manner."

"Oh," Sango said in a small voice. She wanted to believe the healer… and what was more disturbing, she thought she did. Gently, she finished tying Miroku's bandage and shakily stood up to wash her hands.

"Sango," Kourin called to her at the door. Sango paused and turned. "It is okay to let someone else get close to your heart. You don't need to push everyone away." Sango stared over her shoulder for another second before she wordlessly walked out the door and rinsed her hands.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Sango."

The owner of the name started up out of a light doze, Kirara falling off from her perch on Sango's chest. By the dying light of the fire, Sango made her way over the short distance to where Miroku was.

"Houshi-sama?" she whispered. Miroku opened her eyes and grabbed her wrist.

"Sango… do you remember what I told you? Last time I was sick?" he asked in a soft voice, all he could manage.

"You told me…to not be sad. To smile," Sango replied.

"Are you?" Miroku asked. Sango was silent. "Are you?" Miroku repeated. "Please tell me... honestly…that you haven't been sad."

Sango was silent a moment longer before she responded. "I can't not be sad, Houshi-sama," she said quietly. "I'm too worried that you might not make it…that we might not make it to the Lake of Crystal Waters." She paused and turned to look at Miroku with the sparkle of tears in her eyes. "I don't want you to die!"

"Who said… I was going to die?" Miroku said with a weak chuckle. He let go of Sango's wrist and relaxed back onto his blankets. "Give me some credit. I am not weak… I can defeat this sickness." Miroku lapsed back into his comatose state and Sango was left helpless.

'I was so worried…that you might not make it.' Miroku's words to her when she first awoke played over in her head, along with the memory of how he had hugged her ever-so-gently, taking care not to injure her even more. That show of blatant emotion had surprised her. The perverted monk, who viewed girls as handrests, had been worried….about her?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Miroku awoke an even three days after his collapse. By this time, Sango had regained her mobility and most of her health. She watched with a mix of fear and anxiousness as Miroku made no turn for the better- or the worse. But finally!- finally came the day when the monk too made his recovery.

"Sango?" he whispered. Clearing his throat, he tried again, louder. "Sango!"

"Houshi-sama!" Sango replied. She came closer to him and checked his temperature. "Houshi-sama…your fever's broken!" Impulsively, she hugged Miroku around the shoulders, burying her face into his chest. "Houshi-sama…I thought you'd died," she said in a slightly choked voice.

Awkwardly, Miroku patted her back slightly, whispering into her hair. "I'm here," he reassured her. "I'm not dead…yet." There was a playful irony in his last words that just made Sango bury her face further into his chest.

"Houshi-sama, please don't die," she said. "When you were sick, just now…I wasn't sure if you'd wake up."

"And that's a bad thing?" Miroku said, keeping his voice playful and cheerful, as if trying to negate the heaviness of his words.

"I would hate it…if you died, Houshi-sama," Sango said.

Kourin came in and saw the entire scene, smiling satisfactorily, as the two sat in the same position unflinching, unchanging and unloudly.

*~*~*~*~*

"Thank you, Kourin Auntie," said Miroku and Sango. The day after Miroku had gotten better, the pair decided it was time to leave- if they ever wanted to make it to the Lake in time.

"You're welcome, children!" she called after them. "Never be a secret from each other!"

"So, we're on the road again?" Miroku commented as they rode astride Kirara. Both were still slightly weak from their injuries and decided that they'd ride Kirara for some time and walk others.

Sango nodded, silent. Ever since the day that Miroku had embraced her- and then she had embraced Miroku- she had been thinking of little else. Could it be…there was something else to him? Another side?

She felt a slight pressure on her breast and noticed an all-too-familiar hand resting there. "Ooops, lost my balance," Miroku lied cheerfully.

Not bothering to screech any of the usual insulting names she had for him, Sango simply turned around and smacked the monk.

Maybe she was wrong…maybe there wasn't another side to the monk.

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Key: *= I'm bad with Japanese honorifics after -san, -chan -kun, and -sama. So I didn't know what to call an older woman when you first meet her in Japanese. Instead, I used what I would say in India since I don't know any other way.

A/N: Wow, this chapter *sucked*. It was choppy, disorganized, vague, sudden…I know what I wanted to stay I just didn't know how to say it. I also know that the whole Miroku or Sango-get-sick-and-the-other-watches thing has been done many many times, but I liked the idea. Feh. See how far that got me. Please review because if you're here you've obviously read.