Here we go again! More Miroku/Sango fun (for me, anyhow) coming up! Just a note, though, please humor me until you've read at least to the end of Part One. This is going to seem really out of character at first, but once you read on, it might make a little more sense.
As well, no flames. I have no time for immature fangirl bullshit. End of story.
Disclaimer: Sango owns Miroku, and both of them (as well as the rest of the Inuyasha-tachi) belong to Takahashi Rumiko, and I just use them as my puppets.
PART ONE: BETRAYAL
"Love can sometimes be Magic. But Magic can sometimes…just be an illusion."
- Javan
"I ought to feel hatred for this man. I know I ought to feel it, but it isn't what I do feel. What I feel is more complicated than that."
- Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid's Tale
Sango smiled as the afternoon sun shone past the clouds that had begun to pass. A rainstorm had come through earlier, and the grass was wet with dew. The moisture snapped past the tops of her sandals to land on her feet, and she slipped a little. Instinctively, she put a hand to her stomach. After all, that was what needed protected now. Kirara mewed worriedly, and she gave the neko youkai a little pat on the head.
It had been almost two years since they defeated Naraku, and things were going quite well. She and Miroku had wed not long afterwards, though Inuyasha and Kagome still carried on with their tentative courtship. It had gotten better between them, though, when Kikyou was laid to rest. Sango harbored no ill will towards the finally resting miko, but she didn't think she should have walked again. The dead were meant to stay dead, so that they could be reborn. It was with that fact that she had consoled herself when she had buried Kohaku.
Pushing the impending sorrow aside with a silent prayer to her brother, she stopped at the hut that Kaede, Inuyasha, and Shippo shared.
"Konnichiwa!" she called, walking in. Shippo, who had once come to her knees, was now nearing her waist, having just gone through a growth spurt.
"Sango!" he cried, hugging her gently. Sango smiled down at him and knelt to hug him back.
"How are you?" she asked when they parted.
"I'm good. You just missed Kagome and Inuyasha, though. They went off again."
The taiji-ya couldn't help noting his emphasis on again, laughing as he let out a sigh of long-suffering. The noise brought Kaede in from the herb garden around the back, and she bowed to the younger woman.
"Hello, Sango," she said. "How are you feeling?"
"Pretty good," the girl replied, sitting down with a quick bow. "I was ill again this morning, and I think he's beginning to suspect something. I have to tell him soon, or he'll figure it out on his own."
"You know you had to wait to be certain," Kaede reminded, shooing Shippo out of the hut, and sending Kirara with him. "Now, then, let me wash my hands quickly and I shall check you."
Sango nodded, undoing her green apron and sliding onto a tatami mat. If all was well today, she would tell Miroku. It had been quite hard over the last three months, waiting to be certain that she was, indeed, pregnant. It had also been hard to refuse her husband's lustful nature, for fear of endangering their first child. She'd make it up to him, somehow.
Kaede returned, and Sango opened her yukata so the older woman could press hand and ear to her abdomen. She also took the taiji-ya's temperature, with a slim device from Kagome's time. Bracing herself for the probing she knew would come next, Sango held her breath until it was finished. After Kaede went to wash again, she dressed, standing slowly. The old miko's face never gave anything away, and she was always left guessing until she was told something.
The older woman entered, and Sango waited impatiently for her to speak. A wicked gleam caught Kaede's eye as she looked at her, and the taiji-ya bobbed her head, urging her on.
"All is well," she said. "It's safe to tell him."
Sango gave a whoop of joy and hugged the old woman, running out of the hut and nearly running over Inuyasha and Kagome as they returned. Inuyasha growled as he helped Kagome up.
"What the hell are you rushing for?"
The girl gave an impish grin and ignored the hanyou, dragging her young friend off for a moment to giggle away. Inuyasha, slightly confused and annoyed, gave a little 'keh' and sat down to wait.
"Sango-chan!" Kagome cried in joy, hugging her friend. "I'm so happy for you!"
Sango hugged her back, grinning like an idiot.
"Well, I'm happy as well. I can't wait to tell him! Though I bet he all ready knows."
"Surprise him anyway," Kagome suggested, stroking Kirara's back. The tiny cat had leapt up to her lap when she and Sango had settled down on a large rock nearby. She knew that Sango and Miroku would have children eventually, but now that it was really happening, it was even more wonderful than she had imagined. Her friend was glowing with pride and joy, and Kagome wished she could get a picture of Miroku's face when she told him.
"Aa, I will," she replied. "But let's go tell Inuyasha, before he gets too grouchy."
Inuyasha, true to form, had blinked mildly, commented that it had taken them long enough, and asked Kagome if she had any ramen.
Too overjoyed to be seriously annoyed by his lack of care, Sango had hugged them both, as well as Shippo – who had known all along – before hurrying towards the hut she shared with Miroku.
To think, she was finally going to give Miroku what he'd wanted for the longest time – an heir. They had stayed up late often since their marriage, talking about what it'd be like when they were parents. She had learned so much about his past when they did that, how he was raised, the few memories of his father he had. She, in turn, had told him about life as a taiji-ya, and even spoken in choppy amounts about her own family.
She knew now, from those nights, that Miroku wouldn't care if it was a boy or a girl, and neither did she. She didn't know if she could last until dinner, but she had a mental idea running of how she would tell him.
"Dinner's ready, koi," she called, sitting down. Moments later, Miroku joined her, nibbling at the rice before asking about her day.
"Well," she replied. "I saw Inuyasha and Kagome, I'm pregnant, and I got most of the weeds out of the garden."
It was a silly idea, but she would go for it anyway. After all, the look of shock on her husband's face would be worth waiting a little longer to tell him. How perfect was this?
She lifted the door-flap and walked in, Kirara beside her, smiling as she opened her mouth to say she was home, and found she had lost her voice.
A broken bottle of what had been sake lay, empty and shattered next to the tatami mats she had woven together for them to share. The scent of the wine was apparent, as well as a musty scent she didn't want to place.
Miroku lay, propped up on his elbows on the mats, and had yet to notice she was there. Behind him, leisurely undoing his robes was a woman she didn't recognize. As she fiddled with the knot at his shoulder, she placed butterfly kisses down his jaw and neck, and Miroku smiled drunkenly. His eyes, however, were clear, and Sango knew that it wasn't just wine he was drunk on. He reached up with one hand as he lay sprawled on the mat, and made an attempt to help the woman with the knot.
A tiny sound of shock escaped Sango's throat, and it was enough to catch the happy couple's attention. Miroku's face suddenly lost the blissful expression as he laid eyes on his wife, who was standing straight up, hands clenched into fists.
"Sango," he started, and the woman smirked, putting her head on his shoulder.
"Who's that?" she asked mildly, and that was the breaking point for Sango. To not only take another woman to his bed, but to the bed they shared, the bed her child was to come from –
Oh God. Her child.
"Get out," she whispered coldly, fighting to keep her head clear of her emotions. A puzzled and worried look crossed Miroku's face, and he moved as if to reach for her. She stepped back, out of the doorway.
"Get out of here, both of you," she said a little louder, trying not to let her voice shake. The woman got up and walked out, Sango noting sourly that she wore the shoulders of her yukata low and tight. The taiji-ya waited for Miroku to leave as well. She wanted him gone, away from her. She was barely able to look at him as she wondered, how many times?
"Sango, I –"
"Houshi-sama, I – I can't speak to your right now, or ever again. Please leave," she said, her voice wobbling at the word 'leave'. How could this have happened? How could she have been so stupid as to think he would be loyal? All she could think of at that moment was the betrayal; the blind breaking of the trust she had given him. The only thing she felt was cold, though she knew that wouldn't last long.
Miroku was shocked to hear the old nickname after over a year of disuse, and she watched as he realized that she would not be forgiving him this time. He stood, slowly, and began to walk towards the door, out the door, and across the clearing. Before he made it to the forest, however, he heard Sango's voice calling out to him. He turned, and what he saw hit him in the chest, though the full brunt of what he had done was not to hit him until long after he had sobered up.
Sango, his brave, beautiful taiji-ya – no, not his any longer, she was having nothing to do with him now – stood at the door to the hut they had shared, unshed tears glistening in her eyes.
"How many times, houshi-sama? I want the truth."
He stared at her a long while, before nodding. He owed her the truth, though she may not believe it.
"Only once," he said just loud enough for her to hear, before he walked out, into the forest, and away from her.
As she watched the houshi's retreating back, Sango felt her carefully kept control going brittle, and forced herself to walk into the house.
She made it into the door and over to the broken jug to clean it up. When the mess was tidied, she turned to packing. She couldn't stay here, with all the memories they'd shared swirling around her. It was a vortex, ripping through the hole in her heart and tearing it even wider. She threw things haphazardly into a bag, rushing to get out of the hut as fast as she could, before Miroku returned under the pretense of collecting his own belongings.
The only thing she could think about was the deep, steady ache in her, the nagging feeling that she would be ripped apart at any moment. She bitterly remembered something Kagome had said once.
'What goes up, must come down.'
Smiling with acerbic humor, she continued to throw things into the bag. Had things ever come down quickly, though. One moment she was rushing home joyously, and the next she was here, leaving her home.
The bag filled quickly, and she walked over to collect hiraikotsu and be on her way. Bending to pick up the weapon, she saw Miroku's shakujo lying next to it, and the tiny, slender-spun threads of her control snapped.
Her knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the floor, not caring when she cut her arm on the edge of Miroku's weapon. He had hurt her far worse than it ever could.
Kirara gave a tiny meow, worried for her mistress, but Sango didn't hear.
How dare he do this to her? She had given him her heart, and he had tossed it away like so much trash. She had meant that little to him. Had he laughed the day after their marriage, when she was off hunting demons, drinking sake at a brothel as usual? She didn't know what to think. Just when she had begun to smile again, really smile, this happened. Hadn't he sworn off his old habits when they were wed?
He had been there for Kohaku's death, wrapping her up in his warmth when she cried herself to sleep the night of his burial. But even that warmth had been false, she thought. He had been everything she wanted everything that she really wanted from life. Now that was gone, taken away by drunken kisses and a willing young woman.
There would have been more girls, she supposed, that he would bring home and tumble, only to play the dutiful husband when she arrived home. He would continue to defy her, to play games with the life they had made. It would have been a sort of gamble, a joke, to him.
'Damn you, houshi-sama,' she thought.
It wasn't until she touched her cheeks that she realized she had been crying.
A rapping on the wall beside the door alerted her to someone's presence. Refusing to back down if it was Miroku, she brushed the tears from her face and straightened, opening the flap.
"Miroku just walked through town looking like a lost puppy," Kagome said quietly. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing out of the ordinary," Sango replied with as much strength as she could muster. Kagome walked in, raising an eyebrow disbelievingly. When Sango shrugged, the younger girl gave a gasp.
"Sango-chan!" she cried. "You're hurt!"
The other girl looked at her arm, remembering that she had cut it in the shakujo.
"It's nothing," she assured her friend. "Just a superficial cut."
"Superficial nothing! You're coming with me to Kaede's so I can clean this up."
"Do you think Kaede would mind if I stayed there a little while?" Sango asked. Kagome shrugged.
"I don't know, though I suppose she would."
Nodding mutely, Sango collected her bag, hiraikotsu, and Kirara before leaving the hut, and the memories, behind.
When the two reached Kaede's, the older woman asked no questions about why Sango suddenly needed to stay, only told her that she'd need to help out a little from time to time. The taiji-ya was relieved. Her happy ending was gone, so she would start a new life elsewhere. A group of villagers had begun to build a new village for the taiji-ya, maybe she would live there. The one thing she knew for certain was that she would never go back to that hut.
Inuyasha came blazing in a few minutes later, asking why he smelt blood. Sango had shrugged, saying she had cut herself cooking lunch. Reminded that they all needed to eat, Kaede put Shippo and Inuyasha to work, giving Kagome a look that Sango suspected meant 'talk to her'.
Kagome volunteered herself and the older girl to go get fish, and Kaede agreed, so they were off. They walked in silence, Kirara nestled on Sango's shoulder, until they reached the stream. When they sat down, Kagome threw the lines – thin twine from the village tied around a stick – into the stream and tied a tiny bell to the top before steadying the sticks in the ground. The bait was cheese, something Kagome hoped would work.
"It's an idea Souta gave me," she explained. A moment of silence longer, waiting for the tiny bells to ring as the fish bit, and Kagome pounced.
"Sango, what's wrong?" she asked. "And don't say it's nothing."
The taiji-ya shrugged.
"I said it was nothing out of the ordinary. Don't worry about it."
Her young friend gave her a sad look.
"What's ordinary?" she asked. Sango found a blade of grass growing beside her, and was immediately fascinated. Kagome sat, waiting for an answer, and she sighed.
"Houshi-sama's just being himself, is all."
"Stop answering with riddles," Kagome scolded, a cold fear creeping into her heart. "Tell me what happened to make you want to leave."
She hadn't heard Sango call Miroku by that name since before they were married, and it worried her. Often she had heard her use it as a tease, but now, she was replacing Miroku's name again. Distancing herself.
A sharp tinkling noise filled the air and Sango jumped to her fishing line, happy for the distraction. Pulling not one but two – she grabbed Kagome's rod as well – fish up, she grinned.
"If we cut these up and boil them there should be enough for everyone out of these, if we have rice!" she said quickly, starting back.
"Let's go, I bet the boys are hungry."
Kagome watched the girl rush off, Kirara trailing after the fish and her mistress, and gave a worried sigh.
'What happened between you and Miroku?' she thought to herself, 'to cause this reaction?'
They ate lunch in silence, the tension almost tangible in the air. The terseness left the group worried about Sango, who had finished her meal quickly and rushed off with Kirara. When the girl was no more than a speck in the air, Kagome sighed.
"She told me nothing," she informed her companions, threading her fingers with Inuyasha's. Almost unconsciously, he squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back. It was the closest to a true display of affection they ever got. Kaede nodded, but a worried expression crossed her face.
"I do not know what sort of stress this will put on the babe, but I fear for their health," she said. "Perhaps she would speak more freely to Shippo? She does not wish to worry us, though she might open up to a young one more easily."
"I'll be extra cute," Shippo promised, and scurried outside, becoming a large, pink bubble. It took him a little while, but soon he caught up to the taiji-ya and Kirara, flopping down on the neko's back with a sigh.
"You know," he said solemnly, "you're probably worrying them more by not telling them."
Sango's head whipped around, and she looked down to see Shippo sitting with his arms and legs folded like Inuyasha, a serious look on his face. How had she not noticed him before? Taking note of what he said, she sighed and faced the front.
"They shouldn't worry at all. It's my problem – I'll deal with it."
The kitsune gave a little 'tch' of annoyance and tugged on the back of her hair. She spun around again, getting a little annoyed. Why couldn't they see that she had to do this on her own?
"You can't do everything alone, Sango! Now either you're going to tell me, or Kirara will," he said with a wicked gleam in his eye. Kirara gave a growl of agreement, jostling her riders gently. Sango gaped.
"You can do that?"
"Yes, I can!" Shippo lied. Hoping Sango didn't remember that youkai that couldn't take human form couldn't talk like that, he grinned wickedly.
Sango sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat. While lesser youkai couldn't speak, they could send images, and understand most speech. Kirara had seen it all.
"How about I talk to Kagome-chan?" she said. Shippo seemed to consider this for a minute, before nodding.
"That works," he said. "Now let's go!"
Giving a quick nod, the three of them started their way back toward the village.
'So much for a quick flight to clear my head,' she sighed to herself. Upon returning to camp, she sought out the smiling young girl, who sat next to the fire, talking to Inuyasha. The two of them looked up, and Kagome smiled.
"Hello, Sango-chan," she said quietly. Sango smiled back weakly.
"Hello, Kagome-chan."
"Inuyasha, go please," Kagome said, putting a hand on his arm. Sango's heart gave a little twinge. She'd never noticed that before. Since their awkward courtship had started, they were always doing little things like that. Holding hands, touching arms, shoulders, sharing small smiles.
She remembered the comfort that she had gotten from the houshi's presence alone, and how she had thought herself able to talk to him. They would spend time off on their own, even when hunting down Naraku, just talking. It hurt to know they had it all, and that those tiny comforts were gone.
Inuyasha nodded, and got up. Before he left, however, he nodded to Sango, a gesture of what? Was it condolence, respect, worry? Whatever it was, it comforted her, and she nodded back. When he was gone, she sat down next to Kagome.
The younger girl smiled, and waited for her to begin. How had she known that Sango needed to talk? Was she that obvious? Probably…
"I left here fine," she started. "and got to the hut all right. I was going to wait until dinner to tell him, I had a little plan and everything…I never got to tell him."
Kagome nodded, worried. The cold fear that had begun to run through her blood at the stream was beginning to return. She had a nagging suspicion in the back of her mind, and she wished desperately that it wasn't true.
Sango willed her voice to stay strong, reminding herself that he didn't deserve her tears.
"I walked in, and there they were. He was…eager. And drunk. There was no mistaking it. There was willingness on both sides," she continued quietly, and Kagome gave a hiss of sympathy. So she had been right. Miroku had gone back to his old ways. How could he?
"Oh God, Sango…" she whispered, wrapping her arms around her friend in a hug. Sango was looking down, and reached up with one hand to pat the girl's arm.
"That's the gist of it," she said. "Houshi-sama will never change, will he?"
It wasn't a question, and Kagome knew it. They sat there a long time, not saying anything. Neither of them knew what to say.
Outside, Inuyasha frowned. Miroku had been grabbing other girl's again, had he? Idiot. He hopped up, giving a little stretch before jumping into the forest, in search of the houshi's scent.
Miroku's robes were laying not far from where he stood under the waterfall, his face serene, though his mind was in turmoil.
He hadn't meant to fall back into old habits, though the warning bells had gone off when he walked into the garden and saw the young woman sitting there. He had only meant to bring her in for a drink, her nerves had seemed to be raw.
Things had progressed from there, and after they had somehow managed to finish an entire jar of well-made (and rather potent) sake, her profuse thanks turning into a heated kiss across the table. It was then that the sake jug had broken, as they stumbled toward the tatami mat. They hadn't been long into things when Sango appeared at the doorway, looking like the world was ending. Theirs was, really. He hadn't known what to say, to do. The young woman had followed him again after he left, but he had shrugged her off.
"You didn't care a few minutes ago, before that wench stumbled in," she had protested. Miroku turned sharply on his heel then, explaining that that was no wench, but his wife, and that she'd do well to remember that.
Feeling a little lost, knowing that he could never put what he had done to right, he had stumbled over to the falls to meditate. Not much meditating was being done, however, just a good lot of mental berating.
He had it all with Sango – a friend, a lover, a wife, and he had totally forgotten that at the first touch. So much for a happy ending. And it was all his fault. Miroku wanted so badly to go crashing back towards that hut and demand that she listen, and accept his apology, but he refused that urge. Sango deserved better than that.
In a way, the girl had been right. He hadn't cared, not about the warning going off in his head while she palmed his erection or the memory that he had a wife as they stumbled down to the floor in a tangle of hands and lips.
A crash brought his attention to the present, and he realized it was nearing almost sunset. In a few hours, there would be dark. He needed to find somewhere to camp, but for now he had to pay attention to the red figure in front of him.
…Red?
"You fucking idiot!" Inuyasha yelled. Miroku stumbled out from under the water, going for his robes, but Inuyasha caught him first and hit him hard in the face, sending him to the ground.
"What the hell were you thinking?" he growled, standing over the fallen monk, who was nursing his jaw and looking at him.
"In my defense –" he started, rising, but Inuyasha pushed him down again.
"You don't get a damn defense, bouzu. Sango's sitting at Kaede's hut right now, the picture of misery and it's your fault."
Miroku looked down. Sango was hurting…because of him…
"What am I supposed to do?" he asked bitterly, standing slowly, in case Inuyasha thought he should stay seated. The hanyou threw his robes at him, and Miroku caught them quickly, pulling them on.
"Damned if I know, I'm not the one who was two-timing his wife." Inuyasha's voice was full of loathing. "You've done some pretty low things before, bouzu, but this is the worst. You're lucky I don't fucking tear you apart right here."
Miroku nodded mutely, trying not to think about the woman, Sango, anything. The mental anguish he was currently putting himself through couldn't be worse than what she was experiencing. He honestly didn't know why he had done it, but there was no way to change the fact.
"Sango doesn't even want to see your face now, I bet, so stay the fuck away from her."
"How –" Miroku started, but stopped himself. A deep sense of remorse had filled him, and somehow he felt that there was no way to remove it. How could he have done this?
With that, Inuyasha jumped off; the deep anger that had pricked his heart partially satiated. He'd jump around a little to work it off, but he didn't think it would do much. Sango was his comrade, a good fighter, and she didn't deserve to be treated so callously. How could he have done this, dammit! Hadn't Sango given him everything he wanted?
Miroku shook himself off, and touched his cheek gingerly. It was starting to swell, but he ignored it. It would heal. With that, he started back to the village, planning to collect his belongings as he did. He wouldn't be going back to the hut after that. He wouldn't bother Sango if she didn't want to see him.
The long walk took him until the twighlight had begun to set in, and as he passed through the village a voice stopped him.
"Miroku!" someone called, and he turned to see Kagome. Her face was hard, her footsteps firm as she walked up to him. He stood ready to accept whatever she thought to deal him.
"I thought you were better than that, Miroku," she said quietly, looking him in the eye. He saw disappointment in her face, and regret. Somehow, those few whispered words hurt him more than Inuyasha's anger and violence.
Kagome turned back to walk inside and a look of shock crossed her face. Sango stood with her hair fully unbound, apron discarded and yukata loose in the wind.
"Houshi-sama," she breathed, and Miroku winced. Kagome rushed over to her and whispered something in her ear that Miroku couldn't hear. Sango shrugged and walked forward, though her young friend's gaze stayed locked on the two of them, worried.
Sango had been sitting in the hut when Kagome got up and walked out. Shippo and Inuyasha had traded looks, but ignored her when she asked what the other girl was doing. Kaede had patted her shoulder and told her not to worry about it, just to finish her dinner. Instead, she had risen before anyone could stop her and left, only to see Miroku standing there.
His jaw was swollen, and she wondered what had happened to him. Kaede had done another check-up, to make sure the stress hadn't hurt the babe, so her apron was still on the ground. She had taken out her hair tie earlier, wanting to go to the hot springs. Inuyasha had advised against it, not saying why, though now she wondered if Miroku had been there.
His face was fallen, and he didn't meet her eyes as she walked forward to see him. Her hand reached up, almost of it's own accord, and touched his cheek gently. It was starting to purple, and she quashed a longing to take him home and make a poultice for it. The hut was no longer her home, and was the only reason she was speaking to him now.
"I won't be returning to the hut," she said simply, keeping her voice toneless. "Do with it what you will."
Miroku looked shock and she turned to leave, making it almost a full step before he said her name. She stopped, turning her head to gaze sorrowfully at him.
"Goodbye, Houshi-sama," she told him, and kept moving. He called her name once more, but she ignored it, waiting until she had entered Kaede's home to collapse again. There was one fact, she realized, that she couldn't deny, no matter how hard she wanted to.
She still loved him.
Miroku made it into the hut before the rain got too bad, though he was still soaked. He pulled his hair out of the dragon tail it was in, shaking his head to dispel the wet droplets. Looking around, he realized something was off. Hiraikotsu was gone from the corner, dried spots of something Miroku suspected to be blood spattered the floor and his shakujo. All of Sango's belongings were gone, he realized.
All of this, he realized, was because of a sudden…compulsion, he had gotten. The moment her lips had touched his, a dizzy, heady feeling that he remembered from long ago had drowned the warning bells out. The sweet feeling had been helped along liberally by wild amounts of sake, though Miroku didn't know how. A part of him had been screaming hands off, while the other (louder) part of him had simply told him to grab an opportunity.
Going through their home, Miroku noted that the mess had been cleaned up, and the jar was probably buried elsewhere. Mechanically, he made himself something to eat, only to stumble upon a forgotten item. Sango's spare apron lay beside the fire-pit, apparently forgotten in a rush to leave. The blue cloth had been a gift from Shippo, who had earned money with his little tricks until he had enough to buy her a birthing-day gift.
Sitting down, Miroku breathed in her scent from the apron. He fell asleep there, lying next to the untouched meal he had made; her clothing held tight to his chest.
