Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: This is the last chapter before I leave, and I must say, I'm surprised that I actually got it out. Because I finished it so recently (and I'm leaving today), I had very little time for anything except packing and running in circles, panicking. Because of this, I had to forego doing review responses this time. [bows] Gomen. Each one of you, as always, is much appreciated! Also, since the chapter was finished so late, Aamalie-chan had no time to do a Beta Special, and I, as I've said already, have no free time at all. I still have to do quite a bit before I'm ready to leave... So: enjoy the chapter, and I'll be back in town on the 1st! [waves]

Chapter 8: It Begins...

It wasn't long before the majority of the food was gone and the rest was too cold for human consumption. Sango glanced at her watch: 10:38. Ruing her late day at the office, she turned to Miroku. "We'd better go. Thanks for providing a moving target."

Miroku slid out of the booth, allowing her to exit, and Inuyasha did the same for Kagome. "It was a pleasure being your prey, Sango." He grinned, and Sango realized that she'd walked right into that one. Scoffing, she crossed her arms.

Kagome, meanwhile, was chatting with Inuyasha. No; she was chatting at him. He was pointedly staring anywhere but at her. Noticing his predicament, Sango decided to rescue him. "Let me snag Kagome. 'Bye, Nakano." Before she could turn, however, Miroku had stepped forward and kissed her on the cheek.

"Goodbye, Sango."

Sango forced herself to steadily meet his eye. "Is that going to become a habit?"

"If you would prefer that I kiss other places..."

"Never mind. Since the university address is on the card, I guess I'll drive... I'll see you there."

"Absolutely not. You could get lost in that congestion. I'll pick you up at 10:00."

Inuyasha was eyeing a fork on an adjacent table with a look of yearning. Deciding that any further delay might get her friend injured, she nodded quickly. "Okay. Later." She snagged Kagome's arm and dragged her away from Inuyasha. "We- are- leaving."

Kagome sighed. "'Bye!" She called to the males. Sango nodded to Inuyasha, who was looking quite grateful, and the girls made for the cash register beside the door. As Kagome paid for their evening out (which was surprisingly inexpensive), Sango stepped out into the cool night air.

A breeze ruffled her hair slightly. Even though it was rather soothing, she scowled out of reflex. She began to slowly walk back toward Kagome's car, giving the other woman plenty of time to catch up. As she walked, she went over the events of their little outing.

If Naraku's desire was for her to get Miroku's trust, she supposed that she was going about it the right way. Miroku had been cheerful the entire time, despite his numerous lecherous remarks and actions. He also didn't seem to suspect anything; he saw her as just another girl, which was her motive exactly.

Inuyasha, on the other hand, looked as if he suspected that some of Sango's declarations were false. But, Sango mused, What are the chances that Inuyasha knows something about the allegations against Miroku? I'll run a background check on him... Sango decided firmly; even though she didn't know his surname, she was fairly sure that there weren't many people in the area named 'Inuyasha'.

Speaking of him, what had the two been talking about in that secluded area? It bore some suspicion with it; after all, she couldn't have a conversation with Naraku in front of the guys, so it was very possible that Miroku and Inuyasha's conversation contained incriminating information.

Sango rubbed a hand across her forehead. She was still having problems imagining the winning young man as an arsonist... a terrorist. Still, she reasoned, if he acted like a terrorist, it would pretty much defeat his chances of getting away with it.

After what seemed like an eternity lost in her thoughts, Kagome caught up and looked up at Sango, grinning. "So? Did you have fun?"

Sango offered a weak smile. "Yeah. It was nice. After all..." She linked her hands behind her head and stared up at the sky, "you did pay for it."

"I wasn't just talking about the food, Sango." The two had reached the car by this time. Sango slipped into the passenger's seat while Kagome hopped in, started the car, and pulled out of the parking lot, nearly colliding with a green Toyota while merging into traffic. Once they were out of immediate danger, Kagome continued with her previous statement. "You seemed to be enjoying yourself fairly well with Miroku..."

Sango stared resolutely out of the window, refusing to respond.

Kagome, trying to salvage the conversation, smirked slightly. "So, a florist, huh?"

Sango turned her head slowly, and fixed Kagome with a look that said, quite plainly, 'Die'. "Well, what was I supposed to tell him? I'm undercover, so I'm not going to tell him that I'm a fed. It would defeat the purpose."

Kagome frowned. "What do you mean? Miroku doesn't mean anything to your new case."

Thinking quickly, Sango supplied an acceptable answer. "There's no telling who's connected with who. He could be a friend of my target."

Kagome was silent for a second. "I don't know... It seems like Miroku's the kind of person that you can talk to. After all, you need to open up to someone..."

She'd hit a nerve. Sango crossed her arms. "No matter how much I tell you, you'll never believe that I don't want to discuss myself with anyone."

"Maybe you don't want to, Sango, but you need to."

The other woman opened her mouth, closed it, and was about to open her mouth again when her phone began to ring. She glanced at it; Naraku, of course. Torn between being upset that it was her boss and grateful for the interruption, she gave Kagome a dirty look and answered.

"Hello, 'Jiya. Are you in a position in which you can speak to me?"

"Kagome's here."

"You have five minutes for her not to be there." He hung up, and Sango yanked the earpiece out and sighed. Somehow, Naraku had known that Kagome didn't know the identity of the target. She didn't even want to know how he'd found out.

In a short while, Kagome was pulling into her driveway. Before the car had completely stopped, Sango was halfway to her own car. She didn't want Kagome to overhear her conversation, and what was more, she didn't want to hear another lecture about Miroku. She didn't quite know why, however.

Maybe it was that twinge, that gut feeling, that told her that Kagome might just be right.

Once she had slid into her own car and waved to Kagome, pulling out into the street, she dialed Naraku. Once he answered, she didn't bother with the small talk. She began to tell him about all of her interactions with the target since the first night that she'd met him at the bar. She left out the snippets of conversation that she had heard in Chateau Chantre, however; that was her own little mystery to solve, and she didn't want Naraku to think that she was being careless. He was silent through all of it, and Sango didn't finish giving him the details until she had reached her own house.

"I commend you, 'Jiya," he said finally, once she had given him all of the information that she had for him. "It would seem that you fit perfectly into the role that had been prepared for you. As always, exceptional work."

Sango remained silent, letting herself in and dropping her keys on the kitchen counter.

"I hope you enjoy yourself while modeling, 'Jiya." Sango could practically hear the condescending smirk in his voice. She could also hear the finality in that statement, and hung up immediately, trudging upstairs to her room.

She set the alarm to wake her at 9:00, so that she could be ready for Miroku to pick her up. That done, she had just enough energy left to change into an oversized t-shirt and slip her small gun under her pillow before climbing into the bed and falling asleep.

9:45. Sango sat on the couch, her hair still damp from the shower, staring at the door as if daring someone to knock one minute before 10. She was deep in the throes of one of her favorite defense mechanisms: Anger. She was nervous about what she would have to do, so she was using that nervous energy to fuel hatred toward Naraku... Miroku... even Kagome.

Kagome, because of what she had said the previous night. Kagome, because she always said exactly what was on her mind, without thinking of how it would affect others. Kagome, because she had somehow put the idea of Miroku - Nakano - being a person and not just a target into Sango's mind.

Yet another worry was that there'd be no way that she could keep a weapon close while wearing a leotard in front of a class full of civilians. She wasn't afraid that she'd be gunned down, but being armed made her feel like she could handle that big, bad world out there that would like nothing better than to have her in a situation in which she couldn't defend herself.

Besides, she'd arrested enough people that were now back on the streets to be a little worried that they would seek her out.

The doorbell rang. Sango just stared for a while, then grudgingly got to her feet. It seemed like it took an eternity for her to reach out and turn the doorknob.

Miroku stood there, his normal grin on his face and a black bag in his hand. "Good morning!" He held the bag out to Sango. "For you."

Sango accepted the bag. Attempting to avoid Miroku's eyes for as long as possible, she peered inside it. Her head was halfway up to face Miroku again when she snapped her gaze back down again, as if she had seen something startling.

"Anything wrong?" Miroku asked, still grinning.

"...What's this?" Sango managed, slipping her hand into the bag and pulling out something that was definitely not a leotard.

No, what was hanging from her hand was much too little cloth for a leotard. It was... a bikini. A black bikini.

A very skimpy, stringy, black bikini.

"Nakano, what happened to my leotard?"

Miroku's bright grin widened, and Sango was almost sure that it would soon catch the sun, blind her, and get her out of this modeling gig altogether. "I don't remember specifically agreeing to a leotard."

Sango couldn't move for a split second. When she could, however, she took swift vengeance. Once Miroku was firmly lodged in between two of the stout, square bushes that lined her house, she stuffed the bikini back into the bag and glared. "You... are... an insufferable... pervert."

Miroku, being face-down, couldn't make much sound.

"Once you've pulled yourself out, come in and wait on the couch. On. The. Couch," she reiterated, before storming upstairs to change, making every step louder than necessary to express her anger.

She'd thought that Miroku had been sensitive the previous night when he'd agreed to let her wear clothing during the modeling session. Still, some part of her mind reasoned, at least he didn't show up claiming to have forgotten...

After she had put the bikini on under her regular clothes (inside a locked bathroom), Sango made her way back downstairs, where Miroku was sitting obediently on the couch, a few leaves and twigs in his hair.

Snorting with laughter, Sango reached a hand toward his head before she could check her actions. She'd actually pulled out one of the leaves before she came back to herself and snatched her fingers away. "You've got... plant stuff in your hair," she said, a pink flush suffusing her face as she met Miroku's violet eyes.

Standing, he removed his ponytail holder and shook his hair foward, bending at the waist so that it covered his face. Before Sango could protest, he had run his fingers through his black locks and sent the plant bits to the carpet.

As he raked his hair back once more, Sango, trying to hold back the urge to touch his hair - soft, it looked so soft -, cleared her throat and said, "You're going to vacuum my apartment, you know.

"Why Sango, is that an invitation to return to your home?"

Sango tried to think of something to say, but was utterly unable to come up with anything that he wouldn't just twist around. Sighing, she shoved his bag back into his arms. "Let's just get this over with, Nakano."

They climbed into the car, and whether consciously or unconsciously, Sango sat comfortably in the middle of the seat instead of crushing herself against the door. Miroku gave her an open smile before starting for the university.

The Arts Building was very near the main entrance of Miroku's school, and the congestion that Miroku had mentioned the previous night was quite nonexistent. Because of this, it seemed like someone had fast-forwarded Sango's life until she was sitting in a small lounge off from the classroom, trying not to be alarmed about the fact that her heart was beating somewhere in the vicinity of her throat.

She wasn't self-conscious, far from it, but she felt like she would be showing off far more than she'd ever thought she would. Back when she'd had enough free time to go to the beach, she had worn a one-piece and wore a light dress over it unless she was in the water.

Overly modest? Maybe.

The knob of the door that led to the classroom turned, and it swung open to reveal a cheerful Miroku, flanked by an old man who had to be the professor.

Professor Hijyuu was a tad vertically challenged, and the extra weight that he was carrying just made him seem even shorter. He was mostly bald except for a gray fringe that wrapped around his head at ear level. His eyes were wide and expressive, giving him the look of an insect.

Sango reluctantly stood, glad that, for the moment, she was still fully dressed. This is it, she thought to herself. Miroku opened his mouth as if to introduce the two, but Hijyuu closed the distance first.

"You must be Sango," he said, and his voice was odd, somewhat high pitched for such an old man. He reached out and clasped her hand. "Hijyuu Myouga."

"Nice to meet you, Professor Hijyuu," Sango replied, looking pointedly at the hand that he was still clasping.

"Myouga, please," he interjected, still squeezing her hand.

So much for etiquette and subtlety. Sango snatched her hand back and looked over at Miroku. "Class is beginning, I take it?"

He nodded. "Do you need a few minutes to get ready?"

Sango considered the question, and she knew that he wasn't just talking about shedding her outer clothing. He seemed sensitive to the fact that she'd never done something like this before, and was offering her a chance to compose herself. "Yeah."

Miroku led a rather reluctant Myouga from the room, leaving Sango to compose her thoughts and shed a layer of clothing.

It wasn't as if Sango was worried about people seeing her body; she was just a little unsettled about the fact that they'd be preserving her image for posterity. Then, there was the fact that Miroku would be putting her into the positions. If she wasn't mistaken, he'd use the opportunity to do something that didn't quite match the circumstances.

Once free of her shoes, jeans, and t-shirt, she stood in the middle of the room and tried not to cross her arms over her chest out of habit. She began to tap one foot on the floor nervously, trying to tell herself that it would only be for a while, and then, she would probably never see any of those people again. A little reassured, she didn't even blush when Miroku opened the door and beckoned to her, his eyes only sweeping her body once before returning to her face.

Correction: Sango turned beet-red and Miroku's eyes lingered everywhere on their way back to her face.

Somehow, the two of them got through the door that led to the classroom, and Sango had a whole new set of problems to think about.

She could feel the students' eyes on her, almost as if they were already taking note of every curve and line of her body and drawing a mental picture. Sango was suddenly very aware of every inch of skin that she was showing, and suffice it to say, she resented the feeling.

Miroku must have felt her tense beside him, becaue he asked, "Something wrong?"

Sango folded her hands over herself, ego be damned. "Yeah... It feels like there's a million copies of YOU in this room..."

Miroku just laughed and led her to a raised white platform in the middle of the room that was surrounded by a circle that was only broken in front of the door that Sango had come from and the main entrance. Miroku looked into Sango's bright red face and smiled, that same charming smile that he'd used when they'd first met. "Sango, I assure you, there's no one on Earth that's a copy of me." He held out a hand to her, intending to help her step safely onto the platform. "Ready?"

Sango studied his outstretched hand for a moment. Then, she reached out and took it, nodding slightly. "I'm ready."

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