by IronRaven
Discalimer: Inuyasha and company aren't mine. They are the property of Rumiko Takahashi-sama.
The last we knew, Sango had just torn Miroku's clothes off in a room that reeks of saki, and Inuyasha was behaving like himself again. Mostly. And no sign of Kagome.
---
The sun shown hard on the fresh snow, unhindered by clouds. The previous day's snows had been blown smooth and pure, forming a perfectly sculpted blanket of white. Small birds flittered and called to each other through the trees, the day tranquil. From the side of the old oak, a pale hand thrust it's talons through the snow, two voices welcoming the light of day.
Shippou bounded from the shelter, scurrying along the top of the snow, laughing with relief. Inuyasha dragged himself from it more slowly, trying not to cringe at the pain in his feet, instead turning it into a scowl as he watched the cub caper about.
Catching sight of the older demon's expression, and his folded arms, Shippou stopped. "What? It's a beautiful morning, Inuyasha. And I'm happy to be out of there, aren't you?"
"Feh! I'd been in there so long, I'd actually gotten used to your stink, runt." He's going to have a scar on his face from last night.
"Oh, really? Kagome like's my smell. She says URK!" His words cut off by being yanked on the ground by his tail, the kitsune found himself tucked under the hanyou's arm like a package, facing backwards. "Hey, what are you doing! Put me down!"
Leaping for the treetops, Inuyasha waited to answer until he was on the first perch, smiling like a cat. "You really want me to put you down? "
"Uh, not really… Wait the village is the other way! Where are we going?"
"We're going to get the old hag's roots and herbs. We should be able to find them, and I don't need Kagome sitting me a hundred times just because we made that old prune cranky!"
Shippou thought about that, watching the ground move beneath them, the air fluffing his tail the wrong way. We're moving slow. What's wrong with Inuyasha? Then he saw the problem. The dog demon's hakima hid his feet well, but the boy could see that Inuyasha's toes were all traced with shadows, tissue frozen in cold. His feet froze! Why is he doing this?!
The dog boy paused as he landed, sniffing the air as quietly as he could why he looked for the next branch, not wanting to be blown off course again. Why am I doing this? My feet are killing me. That's not how I want to be remembered, Inuyasha the Nine-Toed. Pushing off for the next tree, his hand strayed to the Tessaiga, holding it tighter to his side. You would have done this, wouldn't you, Otou-san. OK, Inu-jijii, you gave me this nose. Now help me find those herbs.
---
Sitting in the middle of her floor, Kagome was sorting through piles and grocery bags of supplies, trying to determine how to load her pack.
"Honey?" Higashurai-sama knocked on her daughter's door, surveying the room. "Are you sure you should be out of bed yet?"
"Hi, Mama- I could just lie there any more. I've got to do something useful," pausing to cough dryly, the young miko continued. "I brought my flu back with me, Mama. People die from the flu now, with medicines and hospitals and doctors and clean water and food. Anyone who dies this winter, it will be my fault, even if no one says so."
Hugging her knees to her breasts, Kagome lowered her face, the fear of a plague running through her mind. To Higurashi-sama, it made her daughter look smaller, younger, more fragile than she had been since before her quest started. Kneeling next to Kagome, the older woman stroked her back. "None of this is your fault. Not any sickness, not your quest. But you are making them right. From everything you've told me, you are helping people. You hide them, but I've seen the bruises, the cuts. When you are home, you are fighting something in your sleep. I know you, Kagome, I know you are risking yourself to help other people. Your otuo-san would have been proud of you."
Kagome pressed her face to her mother's shoulders, the tears starting to form. "But why me?"
---
As the first light of day broke over the eastern horizon, Miroku stirred under empty rice bags and something chilly to the touch but still warm, and heavy enough to that it probably wasn't a quilt. Lousy place to spend the night. Chilly, the bed is worse than uncomfortable. Feels like I'm in a pile of rocks. Stinks of cheap saki. At least I've got company.
COMPANY?!!!
Looking down, Miroku's nose was instantly buried in Sango's mane of hair. His eyes grew wider as he realized that they were both naked, with his arms around her, clutching her tightly to his chest, while their legs were twisted together. Oh, Budda, why! What happened? Why can't I remember! Sango, I'm sorry, I'msorry, I'msorryI'msorryI'msorry...
The terrifying thought that he, a monk, hentai or not, could have taken advantage of his friend, the woman he was afraid to love, while they were drunk forced his throughts to his lips in pained sobs. "I'm sorry…"
"For what, Houshi-sama?" Brought to wakefulness by his paniced movements, stirred by his pounding heartbeat in her ear, the exterminator raised her head to look at her friend, their noses nearly touching. His warm breath played over her lips, softening them to a smile.
"For, for this… I'm sorry... I didn't want this… you… I do want, but… not like this... I wish that this... I shouldn't have... Please forgive me... You never drink, and… What's so funny?" Listening to her friend, realizing what he had been thinking, Sango threw her head back, laughing at him, the humor of the moment evaporating the stress and fear of the night. The nearly hysterical release played itself out until her heart was beating as fast as his, their rhythms matched.
"What happened isn't what you are thinking, hentai. Remember, the bird youkai threw you in the river? I pulled you out, and you were nearly blue. I dragged you here, the still house. Do you remember any of this?" Looking into his eyes, Sango's breath playing on his face as the memories came back from where his terror had hidden them. Her memories made her cheeks redden, as she thought about how she had encouraged him. "I'm sorry about the things I said to you."
Closing his eyes, Miroku examined the twisted, disjointed thoughts of the previous day. "I remember. You saved me, you pulled me from the river. Then you made me walk. You wouldn't let me sleep. And you wouldn't leave me. You could have died to. Why?"
"Because you are my friend, baka. I care about you, even when I'm not sure if you care about yourself. You aren't going to die for a long time. And not like that," pausing to yawn, the Sango pulled the rice bags about to fill a couple of gaps that had formed. Miroku's face was deep in thought as he felt the lovely, wonderful, strong, lethal girl moving about, a tiny smile playing on his lips. "Forgive me, houshi-sama. I didn't mean what I said, I needed to keep you moving."
"I don't remember you saying anything to be sorry about." He marveled at his not having reacted to her motions, her presence, when his dreams had so often brought moments like this to him. His voice was slightly teasing when he spoke again. "So you know when I'll die and how?"
"Hmmmhmmm. You won't die for some time. And when you do, it will be because this," she groped for his hand, her callused fingers still chill on his flesh, her voice heavy with sleep, "landed on the wrong one," as she slid his hand down her back, resting it on her bum, "too many times." As her hand slid down his side, she lowered her face to his neck, savoring his warmth and scent.
"Now be quiet and let me rest some more. You got to be carried, Houshi-sama, and you aren't little." Her breathing slowed as she slipped into a gentle slumber, her hand resting on his backside, giving it soft squeeze. Miroku's face was ablaze as his pulse hammered in fear, not for the huntress, but of her this time.
She put her hand on my… And my hand on her…. These thoughts, and many others swirled about in the monk's mind as he stared at the ceiling, trying to stay awake, just in case it was a dream, while his toes, still cold numbed, and quite without his permission, stroked her's.
---
Author's notes:
Poor Miroku is going to blow a fuse. *giggle*
Otou-san: father
Inu-jijii: My pidgin-Japanese for 'Old-dog', one way of speaking of Inuyasha's father. Not very respectful, but with Inuyasha, that's a sign of affection.
