Disclaimer: Hers. -points to Takahashi Rumiko, who is laughing maniacally while lightning strikes in the background-

A/N: This is the chapter that I've been dreading writing from the start... I would have procrastinated forever if it wasn't for Aamalie-chan... -si-igh- Oh, and the restaurant in this chapter is modeled after the Akabeko from Rurouni Kenshin (don't own, blargh). Enjoy the chapter!

A/N 2: QE has begun to eat BRACKETS! Is nothing sacred?! -sob, sob-

Chapter 11: Deadline

Naraku's fists clenched at his sides as he rose from his chair, almost knocking over his telephone with the abrupt movement. He stepped to his large, narrow window that stretched from the floor to the ceiling and peered out at the ground below.

One thing that he appreciated about having an office on the highest floor was that very few people gained the privilege to share his hall. This provided quite a bit of privacy for him, something that he needed quite a bit of.

"'Jiya, what have you done to yourself?" he murmured to no one. According to Sesshoumaru, Naraku's coveted Taijiya had committed the ultimate taboo - she'd become closer than necessary to a target. What could have warped her priorities in such a way? What could have made her endanger her job in such a manner?

"Whatever your... relationship may be, 'Jiya, Nakano Miroku will die." Naraku strode back to his desk and lifted the phone from its cradle.

Sango peered suspiciously over her teacup, waiting for the undoubtedly perverted comment that she had been anticipating for the last fifteen minutes.

It never came.

Despite her misgivings about accompanying Miroku anywhere, she'd agreed to a traditional luncheon at the Kirouto, a fine restaurant situated a few blocks from the university.

The female staff members were all dressed in kimonos; the obi that were tied at their backs looked as if they had taken days to get just right. The male staff made do with yukata and hakama, giving the Kirouto an alluring rustic sense. Even a few of the customers were dressed this way, momentarily making Sango feel a bit out of place with her modern clothing.

Upon entering, they were directed to an almost completely closed-off room; it had three walls, and the open section gave them a view of other groups in similar compartments. They had taken seats on two cushions that were situated on the floor; beside each cushion was a small table that held chopsticks, a bowl, a neatly folded cloth napkin, and a china teacup and saucer. On the floor between the two cushions, there was a metal-lined hole that was about a foot in diameter.

Now, the silence was becoming unbearable. Miroku's eyes were closed peacefully as he sipped indulgently at his green tea. Though she didn't want to, Sango couldn't help but notice the minute details - the way his hands curved around the cup, one supporting its base and the other covering the side that was facing Sango, allowing him to tilt it to his mouth with minimal effort.

With a growl, Sango slammed her cup down on the small table to her right, fisted her hands in her lap, and glared across the small compartment at Miroku.

His eyes popped open. He blinked for a while at Sango, then calmly lowered his own cup. "Something bothering you, Sango?"

"Darn right, something's bothering me," she bit out. "You make it a point to be as insufferable as you can since the day I met you, then all of a sudden you're the perfect gentleman? What are you playing at?"

"Has it never crossed your mind," Miroku began, the ghost of a smile on his face, "that I see you as a beautiful woman with an alluring and fresh personality? Is it so wrong to want you to enjoy yourself?"

Sango opened her mouth as if to offer a rebuttal, then shut it again. She finally forced out an "O-oh," her cheeks already taking on the pink tinge that might as well have been her natural color, judging by how often she was blushing lately.

They sat in oddly companionable silence until a waitress in a sky-blue silk kimono stopped at their compartment, a steaming cast-iron pot in one hand and what looked like a large metal cup with a hinged lid in the other. Bowing to them, she flipped up the lid of the 'cup' and emptied the contents - hot coals - into the lined hole between Miroku and Sango. She then placed the pot carefully atop the coals and bowed herself out.

Sango passed Miroku her bowl and he filled it with the ladle that had come inside the pot. The beef stew was hearty, but not too heavy for lunch. She set about the task of drinking off the broth before using her chopstick for the vegetables and meat. Miroku followed suit, and the comfortable silence lasted until the end of the meal.

Miroku set down his bowl with a contented sigh. "This place is the best. Every time I have a class, I come here for lunch. Dinner too, sometimes."

The young woman just smiled slightly, thoughts whirling through her head in droves. 'The more time that I spend with him, the more I become sure that he just can't be guilty. Besides, I see him almost continually, so he couldn't have been up to any mischief. Add that to the fact that there have been no attacks on the justice system for a while now...'

"Miroku," she blurted suddenly. "what do you plan to do with your life?"

The man looked slightly confused by the turn of the conversation, but he replied, "I hope to finally be able to quit working at the Buddha and open my own private art school. Maybe a little later, I'll try for an art museum exhibit. Either way, I'll be raking in cash for a job that I love to do." He grinned. "What about you, Sango? And by the way, that makes the third time that you've called me by my first name today."

Far from being shocked, Sango just waved her hand dismissively. "Fine, fine. Rub it in if you want to. So what if you're a little less of a pervy jerk today?" Her smile widened, and it seemed as if it was reflecting the sudden brightness of her mood. After all, she still had over two weeks to prove Miroku's innocence, and with Kagome and Shippou's help, she'd be able to do it. "I want to get married," she said firmly. "Since m-"

She paused, for Miroku had just reached over the empty pot and grasped one of her hands in both of his. "Oh, Sango, I'm so happy! I never thought you'd agree so soon!"

He probably had more to say, but Sango seized the pot and jerked it upward, thudding it against the side of his head and sending him to the ground, twitching slightly.

"I guess I was mistaken to think that you could be serious about anything, Nakano," she sighed, setting the pot back into the pit, where the coals had crumbled into ash that would be emptied out before the next customers entered that compartment. She pointedly ignored his answer, which sounded something like 'I was serious'.

A few seconds after Miroku became intimately acquainted with the floor, a voice came into their compartment. "Miroku."

Sango looked up at the newcomer, taking in his very dark sunglasses, his very dark clothing, and his very white hair. It was none other than-

"Inuyasha," Miroku greeted, sitting up and rubbing the sore spot on his head. "What brings you out into the daylight?"

"Feh. It's not time for your funny business, Miroku. There's something that you'd better see." With no further words, Inuyasha walked on, past their compartment and out of sight.

Miroku looked apologetically at Sango. "I'd better go see what he wants. It'll only be a minute." He rose from his cushion and left her sitting there, slightly puzzled.

Sango still knew absolutely nothing about Inuyasha; Kagome hadn't called her back with any information. What better way to dig up facts than to listen to what people say when they think no one's listening?

The men had withdrawn to a corner that obstructed her view. Sango slowly stood, then crossed in front of a few compartments until she could make out their words. Bemusedly considering the fact that this was the second time that she'd listened in on a conversation between Miroku and Inuyasha, she waited to hear what all the fuss was about.

"Miroku, what are you doing here with her?"

Miroku blinked, slightly taken aback. "Since when do you care who I keep company with?"

"Since you start hanging out with cops!" Inuyasha hissed indignantly, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets.

Miroku let out a short laugh. "You're mistaken, Inuyasha. Normally, I pride you on your pseudo-detective skills, but I'm not going to believe that Sango's federally employed. You'd have to have proof."

"I do." was Inuyasha's answer. He glanced around at everyone that was in a position to see him, then closed his fingers around something in his pocket. "I did a little digging," he confided, "and I found this in your precious Sango's home." He drew his hand out of his pocket just enough to let Miroku see the butt of a small gun.

Miroku stared for a moment, then rubbed his palm across his face. "Inuyasha, some women feel as if they have to protect themselves. It's not odd to find a woman who keeps a piece in her house."

"Yeah, but under her pillow? Under her mattress, maybe, but having it so readily accessible seems like overkill for the normal woman."

"What exactly are you trying to say, Inuyasha?"

"I'm saying that I think this girl was sent by Naraku. That's why she's been trying to worm herself into your life!"

"I invited her into my life," Miroku argued. "I've gotten to know Sango, and-"

"I don't give a damn what you think you know!" Inuyasha burst out, earning him a few dirty looks from those closest enough to hear his shout. Lowering his voice, he continued, "If you think for one second that I'm going to let you get us all caught and killed, you've got another thing coming."

"Luckily, I don't need your permission to do anything," Miroku quipped. "If you'll excuse me, I'm leaving. With Sango." He turned to walk away, Inuyasha's accusations churning in his head. 'There's no way,' he decided firmly. 'I trust Sango. I trust her with my life.'

When she heard the conversation begin to draw to a close, Sango hurried back to their compartment and sat back down upon the cushion. Her muscles were taut with adrenaline as she warred with the desire to get the heck out of there. Inuyasha had broken into her house, he suspected her profession, but Miroku... Miroku still believed in her.

Like she believed in him.

She had no idea how long she had been waiting when Miroku stopped by and stuck his head into the room. "How about we get out of here, Sango? You're probably ready to get home."

Sango just nodded slowly, began to stand - and paused when she felt her phone begin to vibrate against her side. "You go ahead," she said finally. "I have to stop by the bathroom first."

He nodded and drew away.

Sango waited a few seconds before leaving, slamming into the bathroom and sighing in relief when she found that it was unoccupied. She flipped her phone open. "Hello?"

"There has been another fatal arson. Your license has been accepted. Since you foolishly left unarmed this morning, an agent is outside with a full holster. I want the target dead within the hour."

Before her brain could even fully process the impact of those words, the buzz of a dial tone met her ear. She numbly shut the phone off and clipped it to her side once more.

"Just like that?" she whispered to no one. 'I... I'm not ready for this yet... I still had time...' And yet, she couldn't ignore what Naraku had said. There had been another fire, more damage, more deaths... and that was something that she just couldn't ignore.

The bathroom door swung open, and Sango pretended to be preoccupied with fixing her makeup, which was nonexistent save for her pink eyeshadow. She kept up her ruse until a female voice whispered, "Good luck, Taijiya," and set a belt and holster on the counter beside her. The bathroom door swung again, and Sango was alone.

After only a moment's hesitation, she reached for the belt, glad that she'd worn a jacket that was made to cover holsters. After all, it wouldn't do for him to suspect anything.

Her hands shook.

"Sango! Saaangooo!!" Kagome rang the doorbell for the fourth time, tapping her foot impatiently. She had a file tucked under her left arm that she'd slipped out of the office just for Sango to see, and now, she wasn't even answering her door? The nerve!

A whole file on Inuyasha, the gang leader. Mm... bad boy.

"San-" Kagome halted, having tapped the door with her knuckles and noticed that it gave way slightly. Pressing her fingertips against it, she pushed - and it swung right open.

'That's not normal...' Kagome mused, stepping inside. 'Sango never leaves her door open...' "Sango?"

Upon stepping out of the entryway, Kagome gasped. The living room was in a shambles; the couch was overturned, the drawers of her desk ripped open, and several other things were scattered over the floor.

Her training kicked in then, and she realized that whoever had done this could still be present. She ran from the house, pulled out her phone, and dialled Sango's cell.

It was turned off.

Her second call was to the police.

Sango's hand rested against the invisible bulge that was the revolver, concealed under her jacket. Miroku's eyes were on the road as he hummed cheerfully along with a song on the radio.

Sango's heart was beating in her ears as she mentally ran through the standard operating procedure for disposing of a target. It could be done, but only if she was careful and discreet. First, she needed a location. Since it was daylight, preferably a deserted street or alleyway.

A sign loomed up on their left: Tokukawa District - 1 mi.

'Tokukawa... a nearly deserted little town...' Aloud, she said, "Nakano, head for Tokukawa. I know of a shortcut." Her voice was remarkably even, not portraying her slight trembling at all.

"Whatever you say, Sango," he said lightly, and minutes later, they were cruising along an empty street. The windows and doors of every building that they saw were boarded up, scrawled with grafitti, or both.

"Nakano, can you-" Sango's voice failed for a moment, and she cleared her throat, using the mental image of burning buildings to jump-start her vocal chords. "Can you pull over? Please?"

Miroku shot her a worried glance before complying, drawing the car up beside a patch of cracked and weathered sidewalk. "Sango, what's-"

He paused as he felt something cool press firmly against his temple.

A split-second later, he realized that it was a gun.

A second later, he realized that Inuyasha had been right.

-dance of the Evil Cliffies of DOOM!!- Muaha! Who's evil? I'm evil! Whooo! -watches everyone go careening off edge of cliffie-

Now that I'm hated... -hides- ...review!