Dedication: Um...to Vast's "Touched", which I listen to every time that I start writing this fanfic. I don't know why, probably because it's kind of an eerie song, and really gets me in the mood for...well...this story. Oh, and to Kim, who seems to only be interested in this story (She keeps reading my rough drafts of chapters when we're in Environmental Science together) and told me that I needed to keep writing it. This one's for you Kim! 6.6 I am such a dork....

Disclaimer: Hahaha! If I own Inuyasha, things would be very different. For one, in every episode, we'd learn more about Miroku's past, there would be more of him in it, and it would be solely based upon the romance blossoming between him and Sango. Basically, if I owned the show, it would be called Miroku.

The Blade of a Killer

The techniques that she had been forced to learn suddenly raced through her mind with blind speed, and she instinctively ducked to the kitchen floor, rolling on her side until she was underneath her kitchen table. The room was still for a moment, and she watched as the man's dark boots made their way to her table. She was ready for him, crouching with the blade grasped tightly in her hand; she waited until he was close enough to sink the knife into him.

The boots came within a few feet of the table, and then suddenly disappeared from sight. Sango's heart missed a beat, and she looked around frantically. The room was eerily silent; the only sound she could hear was that of her racing heart.

Where had he gone?

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She knew she had to get out from beneath the table; she was a sitting duck while she under there. Opening her eyes, she began to crawl out from her makeshift fortress.

Creak!

She stopped, her heartbeat out of control, the noise had come from above her. Tears of dread began to stream down her face, and she slowly turned her head and looked up above her.

He stood on her kitchen table, his sword lowered in his hand; waiting for her. When her dark brown eyes met his, she was paralyzed in fear; his eyes held no warmth, no enjoyment of what he was doing, they held no emotions at all.

In her terrified state, she dimly noticed his hand once again grip his blade tighter, and how his body seemed to tense, as though preparing to jump. Slowly she blinked, and ducked her head; understanding that her time had come. She was about to die, and a coward's death at that; having never raised her knife to defend herself.

Her father would be ashamed.

My father would be ashamed. Her head shot up at the thought, she couldn't do that to her father. She needed to bring honor onto his death, not curl up and let herself be murdered. For once, she needed to prove to him, to prove to herself, that she was every bit a taijiya then a son could have been.

She needed to stay alive.

She scrambled from beneath the table as quickly as she could, and whirled around, her knife poised for battle. She refused to go down without a fight, and if it was with her last breath, she would make this man pay for slaying her father.

She blinked, and once again fear took hold of her body. He was no longer standing on top of the table; he was no longer was in sight. Her body braced, and she slowly turned around, carefully taking in her surroundings. The room was empty, and the house was still. He was toying with her.

Sango's breathes became ragged as she slowly stepped out from the kitchen, and returned once more to the dark hallway. Her footsteps were silent, yet she knew that she needed to still her unsteady heart if she wished to have the element of surprise and stealth.

A shadow moved swiftly in front of her, rushing past her and into the living room. Her breath caught, and then she slowly followed after it, knowing that once she reached the room, the fight would continue. Stepping into the room, she noticed two things, one was the silhouette of the man standing in front of the television, and the other was that the sound of been muted from the box.

The figure straightened when he noticed that she had entered the room, and leisurely made its way over to her, stepping into the blanket of darkness, and disappearing from her sight. For a moment, she wished that she had a sword or a gun, anything that would be better for her to protect herself with. However, she shook the thought away, trying to be content with the fact that she had anything at all to fight with.

She could feel her training taking over her as she slowly slid into a stance; one that insured defense from any direction. As long as her reflexives hadn't dulled, she knew that she would be able to fight him.

He killed your father; a voice whispered within her mind, your father was once the most feared taijiya in all of Japan. She tried to shake the thought away, remembering instead how her father had let his training go as he aged—especially after his wife had died, leaving him two little children to raise.

There was a sound to her right, and immediately she flinched, bring her knife up close to her face; the sound of metal hitting metal filled the room. She felt the pressure on her blade as he pressed down against it, bringing the sharp edge closer to her throat. She gasped, trying to fight against the weight, but he was far too strong for her. Her gasp turned into a scream of pain as the knife bit down into her skin. Her eyes began to tear when she felt the blade hit her clavicle bone, and her screams intensified as the weight didn't let up. Then, as her scream began to crescendo, the stress against her knife stopped, and the man took a step away from her. She slowly blinked away her tears, trying to comprehend what had just happened.

Had he...had he just spared her life?

She took a step away from him, trying to ignore the searing pain in her shoulder, nor did she pay any heed to the steady stream of blood running down her chest. Her eyes gazed blindly in front of her, and her knife was once again gripped firmly in her arm. Only one thought went through her mind as she sunk back into the shadows.

It was not her time to die.

Not yet.

Grimacing at the pain, she tried to train her eyes on his dark form. He seemed to be just standing and watching her, his sword not even raised in defense. Anger filled her as she realized that there was nothing she could do, even though he wasn't even on the defense; she couldn't touch him. Not when he was able to move as swiftly and silently as he was able to. And she knew hoping for him to slip on and make a mistake was an empty wish—it took caring about what you were doing, feeling something intense for your actions, to be able to distract you. And his every movements were cold, calculating, and made with no emotional attachment.

He had done this before.

Her eyes widened at this sudden revelation; someone must have wanted him here, in the middle of her living room. Someone must've paid him to kill her father...and her...and quite possibly her brother.

She grasped her shoulder, and stared in the area that she believed he stood. "What do you want?" She whispered hoarsely, "Why did you kill...why did you k-kill my father?" Silence was her only answer, and with that silence, her anger heightened. "Tell me." She demanded, her eyes narrowing and her body poised to attack.

But he was faster than her; the moment she began to launch herself at him, his sword was brandished and with a quick swipe, he sunk the blade into her leg. Reeling back in pain, she dropped to the floor, clutching at her wounded leg, trying to apply pressure to the gushing wound. He stood above her, and didn't even blink as he brought the sword down again, this time slicing into her right arm, and rendering her sword wielding hand completely useless.

She screamed in pain, watching as her own blood and tears soaked into the carpet beneath her. Her body tensed, waiting for the final swipe—the one that would end her pain, both physically and emotionally, forever.

Sango, pick yourself up and fight—what of Kohaku?

With sudden renewed her eyes widened and protectiveness for her brother overcame her. She would sooner die a thousand deaths than not know the state and whereabouts of her brother. She would rather feel life slowly slip out of her reach then let anyone harm one hair on her brother's head.

She pushed herself off the ground, and picked up her knife with her left hand. Whipping around so that she lay on her back, she brought the knife up, and with all her strength, plunged in towards his leg.

He stepped away, but not before the blade managed to nick his leg. Though unbeknownst to her; she was the first to ever draw blood from him. No matter how minor the gash, she was the first to be the cause of a single drop of blood from Miroku Houshi's body.

Scrambling to her feet, she limped as fast as she could into the hall, and then into her bedroom. A heavy flow of blood followed behind her, and she began to feel faint on her feet, but she pushed on. Dark spots rimmed in white began to corrupt her vision, but she wasn't about to let blood loss be her downfall. Stumbling into her bedroom, she headed straight towards her bathroom, as she shut the door; she saw his sweep down before her. She quickly slid the lock into place, and crawled onto of her toilet seat, clawing at the window just above her head.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

Her body jerked in surprise when he began to bang himself against the wooden door, and once again her heartbeat became sporadic. She frantically tried to pry the window open, but it wouldn't budge. The pounding became louder against the door, and the heart wrenching sound of wood being to split apart filled the room.

With unsteady hands, she worked at the window, but once the crunch of the wood became louder and more sinister, she reeled back her fist and sent it through the window. Glass fell towards the ground outside of her window and a few fragments fell back into the bathroom.

Without hesitation, she pulled herself up on the windowsill—jagged pieces of glass slicing into her palms—and then dropped out into the ally beside her house. Pieces of glass lodged themselves in various patched of skin around her body, and she bit back another cry of pain when she pushed herself to her feet—sending the glass wedged in her palms further into her skin, and inviting a few other stray glass pieces into her bleeding hands.

She stumbled down her street, known that calling out for help would be a waste of breath and would fall on deaf ears. The street she lived on was one were people only thought of their own safety. She would only be giving off her location if she screamed for help. No one would dare step from the safety of their houses at the sound of one more neighbor dying on the streets.

Shaking from the amount of blood loss, she gripped one of the jagged pieces of glass jutting out of her hand, and wrenched it out. She squeal in pain, but kept stumbling down her street.

Her footing was uncertain as made her way down the wide road; many times she lost her balance and almost fell to the unforgiving asphalt. Gasping in pain, she continues pulling the glass from her hands, and screaming in pain.

Not a single door opened; though one window closed.

Falling to her knees, she hunched over her wounded hands; tears running freely down her face. She knew that she was not going to last that night. Where she was leaving a wake of blood trailing after her, and he had one single scratch. The statistics of survival of the night were highly stacked in his favor.

"Kohaku..." She moaned, her long black hair falling like a curtain around her face, "Kohaku...I'm so sorry..." Her voice caught on a lump in her throat, and she sobbed, "I'm sorry I failed you."

There was a crunch of gravel underfoot in front of her, and she looked up to see the man standing in front of her. She made no movement to protect herself, just watched as he raised his sword, and then brought it down hard.

Then there was nothing but darkness.

Author's Note: Sorry this took so long to get up, I've been writing and rewriting it since I posted the last chapter (something that happens every time I'm left alone with anything that I've written for extended amounts of time). Did you guys like the chapter? I know this sounds a bit morbid, but I had fun writing it. Don't ask me why writing scenes were people get hurt is fun for me, I sound morbid enough as is. xX

Thank you all for reading my story! And thanks for all the reviews! I'm always really excited when I see that people are actually reading my stuff! Thanks again! And I hope you liked the chapter! (Hehehe....I'm really enjoying writing cliffhangers as well, can you tell?) Please review!