Love Beyond Life

Chapter 13

Sango-sama

Author's Notes:  Why look...I'm working on an old fic instead of writing another teaser...and I do have another teaser in prewrite... -_-  When the ideas rain, they just pour.  And so...because I love all of you readers so and as a reward for putting up with such a fickle fanfic writer like myself...there are some not-so-modest limey hints on the way in the next chapter. 

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha. Sad, isn't it? I have however, temporarily borrowed Miroku to ravag--err, I mean (ab)use him in this fic. ^_-

*****

Her eyes still trailed after the Houshi's ghost form, watching until it was just barely discernable through the mess of trees.  He may have promised that he wouldn't be watching, but she still wasn't absolutely certain that he would try.  Technically, he wouldn't be able to do anything lecherous anyways, seeing as how he couldn't touch her outside of dreams, but that certainly didn't mean that he was entitled to a show.

Sango self-consciously covered her chest as she slowly lowered herself below the waters surface, shivering as inch after inch of her exposed skin met with the chilly waters.  The water was close to unbearable, but she hadn't had a decent bath since the...incident; she needed to purge the images of battle from her mind.  She sighed quietly, closing her eyes as she lightly tread her hands through the water. 

Kohaku was dead--he was finally free of Naraku's torment.  She had not-so-secretly hoped that he could be saved and to live again as the little brother she had once known.  It had in fact happened a few times before, but wouldn't last for long before Naraku would use him to manipulate her; no longer would she have to fear betraying her friends in order to save him.  Though her mind would probably never be truly free of the image of his deaths, she could rest assured that his soul was at peace, with their mother and father and all the rest of the villagers.  She would carry on in all of their memory, and avenge them by helping to bring about Naraku's destruction.

As for Houshi-sama...

She missed being able to talk to him and not have Inuyasha and Kagome looking at her with those pitiful expressions.  It was really a wonder that those two, with their heightened senses were unable to detect his presence but she was.  Perhaps she was really was as crazy as they seemed to think...maybe she was just imagining that the monk was having these conversations with her.  And surely, those dreams could be nothing more than her imagination running wild with feelings that she was just beginning to come to terms with.

Her head sunk back into the water, wetting down the each ebony strand, before pulling herself back upright.  The water streamed down her back as her arms once again crossed over her chest.  Without even realizing it, she was staring off into the woods, looking for the pale, darkly robed figured who was supposed to be guarding over her.

He had thrown himself in front of her, protecting her from a surely fatal wound by receiving it himself.  She had known that his time here would be limited, but he hadn't hesitated in placing himself in front of her.  He hadn't pushed them both out of the way...but perhaps he didn't have the time.

She had always assumed that if and when they would finally manage to defeat Naraku that the Houshi would settle down.  He would no longer have any reason that necessitated the continuation of his family line...unless he wanted to marry and have a family.  And then, she would still be uncertain of where she stood.  Yes, he spoke with her often and, of course, he had protected her as often as she protected him.  And occasionally, he would speak kind words with such a low, sweet tone that she could not help but blush.  It was the times like these that   But he would always, always ruin it...with those damnable hands of his touching someplace horribly inappropriate!  Why couldn't set a hand on her cheek...or her shoulder?  Why did he always have to grope her? 

'It's because I can touch you...' he had said.

Mou...even in her dreams he was talking like a lech, her mind protested.

But her hand was up at her cheek, tracing a path where his fingers had brushed in that rather vivid dream; she gave a shiver of delight, craving his simple touch, his comforting warmth again, even if it was only a creation of her dreams.  She could be content with that, in honor of his memory.  A wistful smile tugged her lips, and her eyes were glazed and far off.

So absorbed was she in her own thought that she hadn't even heard the light splashing of the approaching demon, nor the sizzling hum of spiritual energy. 

"Houriki!"*  The all too familiar voice shouted as two ofuda sailed though the air like kunai, before plastering themselves on the kappa's forehead where he had risen from the water behind her.  The papers crackled with energy, eliciting a sharp scream from the frog-like youkai before it floated unconscious at the top of the water.

Sango didn't even turn around; she could tell by the sound and the sharp tang of smoke that the wards had been effective.  She could do little more than gape, wide-eyed at the man who was surely a figment of her imagination as he stood on the shore in front of her.

But if he was just in her imagination, how could he have stopped the kappa with one of his own wards?

His own eyes widened as his glance moved from the kappa to Sango.

"How...?"  Her hand lingered at her cheek, as her mind struggled to process just how a ghost could possibly be able to knock out a demon.