Maybe Someday: A Miroku x Sango Love Story

*Disclaimer: * Feh. As if I could ever 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 a bunch for your reviews. This chapter is going to be pretty pointless, I knew where I wanted to go but I just can't quite get there…

Mystical-Grace: While that's a good idea, my plots don't run that deep! I can't think up of a plot that intricate.

Keika: You didn't offend me, belly-dancing is more Middle Eastern; I'm a few shades to dark to be 'bronze,' and I *used* to have black hair, but then all my swimming, plus a few henna highlights, turned it a dark brown-ish with copper highlights.

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"Sango, are you feeling all right?" Miroku asked. Sango spun around, jerked out of her thoughts.

"What?" She paused, then answered, "Yes, I'm perfectly fine, why wouldn't I be?"

Miroku shrugged. "You had some pretty serious injuries. I wanted to make sure that you are up to continuing on this journey."

"Excuse me?" Sango demanded. "I said I'd help you. And I had only minor injuries. Besides… I wanted to make sure that you wouldn't die." Sango glanced down as she said this.

"Sango… look at me," Miroku said. Tremblingly, Sango tentatively lifted her head to look at Miroku. He cupped her chin in her hands and looked down into face. "Why, Sango, do you never look at me…when you admit that you are worried about me?" Sango stared mutely back, unable to speak for the moment. Miroku searched her face with his for a long while, silent, still keeping Sango's chin in his hand. After a while, though, Miroku seemed to have found whatever he was looking for: he nodded his head slightly and released Sango. She immediately turned back forward, already starting to walk ahead.

"You're afraid too, huh?" Miroku said abruptly, after only a few minutes of silence.

"Afraid of what?" replied the girl.

"You are scared, as I am," Miroku answered, "that by letting yourself get closer to the people that you lo- care- about, that you will unavoidably get hurt."

"I- I am not scared of anything!" Sango declared, although the slight tremble in her voice belied her statement.

"Then you are a fool," Miroku said quietly. Sango looked furious for a moment, trying to decide what kind of pain to inflict on the monk, but she had the nagging feeling he was right, and so stayed silent. "You are afraid, Sango, that Naraku may never be defeated…that your brother, Kohaku, will never be free… you are scared that you will lose the company you now keep, as you lost everyone you once loved and trusted."

'Damn that Houshi!' she thought furiously. 'Why does he have to know and perceive so much?'

"And you?" replied Sango scathingly. "You are scared also that Naraku will never be vanquished…you are afraid that your hellhole will consume you before you can get some woman to bear your child! Which is worse?"

"I am scared about everything, Sango!" Miroku said firmly. "Not just about myself. I am afraid that no one in our company will achieve what they want…I am scared that *you* will not get what you want."

"H-Houshi-sama," whispered Sango, no longer holding up any pretense of anger with the monk, "what are you saying?" Sango was surprised that Miroku was admitting to worrying about someone other than himself, in fact, he was worried about them all. 'Houshi-sama usually would not spare a thought for others…' Oh great, she thought, there came his "other side" again.

"I'm not saying anything," he replied, equally quietly. "Except that maybe none of us will be successful in our quest." Sango wasn't sure about this answer; she had the distinct feeling that Miroku meant more than his words said outright. And yet…yet what could the monk have to say that he couldn't tell her straight-out?

"Houshi-sama," she asked, since they were on the subject, "are you scared that we may not reach the Lake of Crystal Waters before time runs out?"

"No," Miroku replied. Sango glanced sharply up at him, surprised at both his answer and the slightly cheerful note to his voice.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not scared that we will not reach there soon…because I can feel that we are almost there!" Miroku replied. He smiled broadly at Sango.

"Oh. I mean, good! Wonderful!" Sango said, clapping her hands and matching Miroku's cheerful tone. 'Why did he sound so cheerful?' Sango wondered, even as she returned Miroku's smile. 'Is he so happy…to end this quest and so end his time with me as his sole companion?'

Meanwhile, Miroku, noting Sango's cheerful voice, was wondering much the same thing. 'Why does she look so happy that our quest is almost over?' he thought. 'I know this means my life will not be in as much danger…but surely she cannot dislike my company enough that she would be so happy to rid herself of me…?' Shaking his head slightly, Miroku glanced up at the sky and noted that the sun was almost directly overhead. He also heard his own stomach rumbling.

"Why do we not stop here?" Miroku suggested, as they soon stumbled upon a clearing. "We can rest, prepare lunch, and then continue, so we may reach the Lake of Crystal Waters by sunset."

Sango nodded. She had the distinct feeling that Miroku was trying to forget their earlier conversation. She couldn't blame him, she felt the same; it was a lot of information that she needed to process. And some of what Miroku had said, had admitted, really, was disturbing, so against the character of the monk she thought she knew…

Sango set up a fire, the dry tinder instantly flaming up high. She found the provisions they had taken- with permission- from Kourin Auntie, and prepared to make a meal. While she knew she wasn't much of a chef, all her traveling with Miroku and Kagome had taught her the basics.

As she waited for the water in the small pot to come to a boil, Sango sat down on a nearby log and inspected her hair. She made a face when she felt its roughness, the burs and tangles knotting up her hair. 'Where's Kagome's hair-soap when I need it?' she thought, as she attempted to work out the tangles and knots by running her fingers through her hair.

"Ow!" she exclaimed under her breath, as her fingers encountered a particularly nasty tangle. She tried to work her fingers out of her hair, but they too were caught up in the dark locks.

"Here," came a soft voice from near her ear. The breath tickled her neck and made the hairs on the back of it stand up. Before Sango could respond, Miroku had gently worked her fingers out of the tangle they were caught in. And before she could respond, Miroku's long, slim fingers gently undid the tangles, unknotted her hair. Moving behind her, his fingers deftly plaited Sango's hair into a long, dark braid.

"There!" Miroku said, as he secured the end of the braid with ribbon. He patted the braid a few times and looked at it admiringly. Sango reached a hand behind her and felt the monk's work wonderingly. Even as a young child, she hadn't had plaited hair. She brought the braid around her shoulder in order to inspect it more carefully, liking the way the three strands were interwoven to make one single, thick strand.

"It's very nice, Houshi-sama," Sango said, stirring the pot, to which she had added herbs and chopped carrots, zucchini, butternut squash, eggplants and spices. She felt hands on her shoulders and then Miroku was turning her toward him, so he could see her face.

"The braid looks nice on you," he said quietly. He brushed a stray wisp of hair from Sango's face to behind her ear. Sango was uncomfortably aware of how close he was to her. "It looks so nice, so beautiful…"

Sango twisted out of Miroku's grasp and turned her head away from him. "Stop admiring your work so much," she said. "It's nice, I said that. You should not be so vain of what you do."

"I was not talking about your braid," Miroku whispered. Sango refused to look at him, though she knew he was staring at her. "Sango, I…"

But she shoved a small bowl into his hands. "Eat. It's soup," Sango instructed him, carefully avoiding him. She poured herself some soup and ate it, knowing that Miroku was looking at her from over his soup bowl. Unwillingly, Sango glanced up to meet his gaze, and after a second longer, Miroku's eyes dropped back down and he finished the soup in one large swallow. He set the bowl gently down and gave some to Kirara.

"It was good soup," he complimented her. If Miroku was thinking of something other than the soup he masked it well. "You are quite the cook."

"I learned it from Kagome," Sango said, modestly brushing away the compliment. Miroku looked as if he wanted to say more, as if he wanted to insist that Kagome could not have made the soup as well as Sango had. He didn't.

"Shall we leave?" Miroku proposed, as Sango re-packed their meager belongings. She nodded silently and rose easily from her kneeling position.


"Kirara!" Sango called to her cat. The tiny cat-demon mewed and gave up her chasing of butterflies to follow her mistress.

~*~*~*~*~*

The sun was preparing to set.

The blood-red orb hung heavily, low in the sky, a few moments away from disappearing from sight for the night. The sky it lived in was in brilliant shades of orange, red, and pink.

It looked like a fire ready to consume anything that flew across it.

Miroku glanced appreciatively at the artist's palette of colors, noting its beauty. Miroku wasn't one to miss anything of beauty. Miroku knew he could find beauty in everything.

Even death.

Miroku sighed. He could actually *feel* the Lake of Crystal Waters, as if it gave off some aura like a demon's, except this one was benign. So he knew he and Sango were going in the correct direction. But as Sango had said, there was some sort of obstacle before he could take a sip of the blessed water. True, they had already met with adversity: first the time limit, then the demon attack. And emotionally also…Miroku wondered if emotional troubles counted as an obstacle. If it didn't, it should be, he thought.

All throughout the journey, he had been fluctuating between completely taking Sango and pushing her further away. Was it better to have a moment's worth of love and then have it taken away…or perhaps it was better to be alone and then have no attachments so nothing could be taken away…?

"Huh?" Miroku said, startled out of his reverie, realizing Sango had asked him a question.

"I said," Sango said, "do you feel that we are near yet? After all, it is sunset, and if I recall correctly you said we would be at the Lake of Crystal Waters by this time."

"Yes," Miroku answered. "I feel it- it's close, very close…" Miroku took an abrupt left turn, grinning. "Come on, Sango, let us take Kirara! We are so near to our destination!"

Kirara galloped through the air, sensing her mistress's and her friend's excitement.

In a few moments, the party came upon a smooth lake, the waters clear and deep, sapphire blue, sakura trees bending blossom-laden branches toward the water.

"Is this it?" Sango breathed.

"Yes," Miroku replied.

"This is the Lake of Crystal Waters."

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Blech. I didn't like this chapter either. I could've done more with it. Oh yeah, and that whole bit about the sunset and all was pretty pointless, just an outlet for me to exercise descriptive technique. And one of my closest friends, who is almost exactly like Miroku, said he could find beauty in everything, even death, so I got that idea from my friend. I think I'm not going to have this fic end right after Miroku takes a sip from the Lake. After all, Miroku and Sango still need to get together…!

Please review because if you're here then you've obviously read.