AN: I don't know why I do author's notes for this story. I'm writing this one for me, mostly. Though it's a little sad that so few people are as excited about this as I am…goes off to sulk fangirlishly

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If you wanted to get nitpicky, it was all Kikyou's fault. It was, after all, the arrival of Kikyou that ultimately sent Miroku out to deal with Arashi's 'problem'. It was her continued presence that had Miroku fighting Sango, instead of letting Inuyasha deal with her. That's what started it, after all. That fight. And if you were going to get really difficult about it, it was her deception that started the battle between the inhabitants of Green Haven and Hakudoshi's mercenaries. But that will be explained later.

Miroku and Sango stood on opposite sides of the broad, wet log that ran across the river. Miroku held his staff naturally – this was his preferred weapon. He had tied his sleeves back, exposing bare, muscled arms, and his hands were shoulder width apart. With a cheerful grin, he waved at her from his side of the log.

Sango, on the other hand, was a fish out of water. She'd never fought with a staff before – her skills were for hunting and self-defense, not combat. Her 'battle skills' were hand-to-hand moves made for quick, easy escapes. Her hands were held close to the middle of the staff – a long, smooth piece of oak capped on either end with brass. Great. Her first time into battle, with a weapon she'd never used before. Why not just give up now? It was mostly pride that made her wipe her emotion from her face and turn her back foot to center herself.

Miroku, noticing that she was ready, came at her with a high blow. She made a small, inarticulate noise and tried to block it, her grip sliding down the staff to hold it like a sword.

It wasn't working. He slid his staff up hers, bringing the other end around to smack her in the ribs. Sango yelped, swinging her staff down towards his shoulder. Her opponent blocked it easily.

And then…he stopped. Standing back, he regarded her with an odd sort of grin.

"This isn't going to work," he commented. She gave him a dry look.

"Why not? You were winning."

"That's not the point," he told her. She was startled when he slid around to stand behind her; his own staff left in front of them.

"Here," Miroku offered, reaching around her to put his hands over hers. Gently, he slid her hands up the staff, settling them at shoulder width apart. She gave a little shudder of shock, and felt her face coloring. What was he doing? He was too close!

"You strike like this," he explained, moving their hands to a high, middle, and low strike. "Block with the middle of your staff. If you do it right, you won't get your knuckles rapped."

She nodded mutely, feeling the blood rushing to her face. He released her hands and stood back. Only moments later, a feeling completely foreign took over Sango. Miroku had reached forward, and with a firm squeeze, grabbed her butt.

If possible, Sango became more flustered. She spun around to thwack him soundly; the high blow aimed at the crown of his head, only to find him gone. He had turned with her, rolling over his shoulder to grab his staff. He wobbled a little, the slippery log not making for good tumbling, but regained his balance in time to jab her in the back and get her attention.

She spun, and blocked his shot to her middle.

"You…" she hissed, embarrassed. She took a low swing at his legs; he knocked it up, taking another shot at her ribs. Now having been hit several times in the same spot, her rib cage was starting to throb. She hit his arm sharply, and then his opposite shoulder. Hah!

The exchange went on, Sango managing a few blows of her own, and blocking some of Miroku's. He stepped forward, put his leg between hers, and shoved her backwards with his staff. She tumbled backwards, but continued the roll over her shoulders and stood. He looked impressed.

"Where did you learn that?" he asked, rushing forward to swing at her. She moved to block it – only to find that it was a feint. He switched directions, hitting her hip. She took her own shot at him, and grinned.

"Mum was a tumbler," she explained. Miroku stopped the move, nodding appreciatively.

"I bet she was wonderful. And beautiful, if you are any indication."

She went red again, remembering why she disliked this man, and took a fierce swing at his midsection. She had twisted her back foot again, to give herself balance, and he grinned.

He never bothered to block the move, and Sango should've been concerned. Especially when his staff shot forward, hooked behind her back knee, and yanked upwards. Giving a shout of surprise, she fell over, off the log, and into the water.

Miroku smiled benignly at her when she resurfaced, wet and spluttering. When she opened her eyes, he was offering his hand to her. She took it, glowering at him. Quick as a flash, she grabbed his wrist with her other hand and pulled. He joined her in the water a moment later.

Sango laughed at the look of shock on his face, at the unintelligible noises he made as he brushed his now-loose hair out of his face. Revenge was sweet, even if she had lost the fight.

Mustering up what little dignity he had left, Miroku said in a prideful tone:

"I still win."

"Not from where I'm standing," Inuyasha called. They had apparently gathered an audience, for the hanyou was not alone. Most of the men, and a few women not involved in dinner stood at the bank of the river, watching them. Kikyou stood close to Inuyasha, a tiny smile playing over her face. Sango shook her head, and spoke to Miroku.

"I fell in first," she admitted, pulling herself out of the water. Miroku did the same, wringing the water out of his clothes when he stood on solid ground once more. Sango was wringing out her hair.

'You needed a bath,' she reminded herself. A hand clapped her shoulder, and she looked away from her task and into the eyes of Miroku.

"I'm getting dry clothes. You look about Umeko's size, and she should have a spare shift."

A redheaded woman, tiny like herself, walked forward, a baby on her hip.

"As long as you don't mind black," she said, sizing up the other woman. Sango spread her arms.

"I don't have much choice, do I?" she sighed.

The two of them laughed, and walked towards one of the hovels. When Sango re-emerged, she did indeed wear a black shift. It was a little tight at the hips, but the neckline came up to her collarbone and someone had lent her a length of cotton to bind her chest with. Her hair was let down to dry, and despite the slightly faded color of the dress, she felt better. These people weren't all bad.

"Just in time," the redhead commented. "Arashi's got dinner ready – and we have meat today. You're in luck."

They sat down on one of a few logs that had been dragged around the fire for seats. There were only a few spaces left, and Sango could see the monk helping two women dole out food. One of them was Ka…gome? She didn't quite remember, though it sounded about right. Bowls were passed around, and she took one quietly. As it turned out, it was the monk who came over to serve her food. Moving to pour the ladle's burden into her bowl, he paused with a grin.

"We had a deal," he reminded her, and she rolled her eyes.

"I don't know your name either," she told him, still a little sore over the loss. She never had taken losing well, though his soaking was going a long way to soothing her ego.

"You first," he said, serving the man beside her as well as Umeko.

"Sango," she said crisply. He smiled broadly and poured the stew into her bowl.

"Miroku," he replied. He paused a moment, still smiling at her, before moving on to another empty bowl. Sango looked down at her bowl, willing her face to stay the same color. What was with him? He bothered her, but not in the same way that Hakudoshi had, years ago. It was more of a pleasant bothering, and she hated how it felt.

-

"So where are you from miss?"

Sango looked up from her half-eaten dinner, trying to locate the speaker. A young man waved cheerily at her from a few people down the log. She half-recognized him as one of the men who had kept a grip on her before the monk had come out.

"Why do you ask?" she said, not a little sharply. He winked.

"Still sore, miss? My Umao has a poultice for that!"

A woman with short red hair flushed and smacked him in the arm.

"Shikako!" she squeaked, and Sango laughed.

"It's only my pride that's taken a beating today," she admitted. "And how very abused it has been."

Everyone laughed, the honesty of her statement appreciated. The subtle shot at Miroku was noticed and ignored, though she was certain he had noticed it. She wondered mildly when she would be able to go home, which brought her back to the question she had been asked in the first place.

"Doncaster," she admitted. The redheaded woman – Umao – looked at her speculatively.

"You certain? I thought Doncaster was all hunters."

"Even hunters need breeches," Sango replied. This awarded her another round of laughs, which was cut off only when a tiny child stumbled into the circle. His face was dirty, his clothes worn, but his expression was eager and shone through the muck.

"Are you a cook, Miss?"

Sango was a little taken aback. Her? A cook? Ayame had tried to teach her how to cook, once. She had managed to botch it horribly. She could make jerky from the meat she caught, and boil water, but most things aside that were beyond her.

"Not really…" she said, a little awkwardly. How did one speak with a child? Did you use small, uncomplicated ideas, or were they smarter than that? The only child she had ever really known was Kohaku, and he had been easy to figure out.

The child bobbed his head, and wandered off again. She was nervously quiet for a moment, and before she could say anything, the little boy toddled over again, something in his hands. He placed the object in her hands, and Sango looked down. It was lumpy and odd, the color of an alder tree. She recognized it immediately.

"Can you make that?" the boy asked, hopeful eyes stark against his mud-darkened face. She looked at the lump. Sure, she knew the recipe. Everyone in Doncaster knew it, even the men. But to make it was a little more complicated. It had to boil just the right length, until it was soft and firm. How to explain…

She was saved from the difficult task of telling the child – such a duckling! – that she would probably not be able to make the confection, though whether or not she'd be grateful to her savior (or his methods) was yet to be seen. Miroku once again intervened, kneeling in front of the child.

"Did you see Miss Sango and I fight?" he asked. The child bobbed his head.

"Yessir! You wholloped her good, Miroku!"

Sango grimaced. She didn't think she had done that badly…

The monk took the butterscotch from her, tossing it from hand to hand absently.

"Well, Satoru, I'd bet she cooks like she fights."

The little boy made a face and took his candy from Miroku. Turning to Sango, he gave a wobbly bow.

"Sorry I bothered you, Miss Sango," he said hastily as he started to skitter off. She and Miroku rose at almost the same moment, and he stepped back to watch her. A wry smile flitted across his face as the scene before him unfolded.

"Satoru, your name was?" Sango said crisply. "Well, Satoru, let me tell you that the Friar is wrong. I am perfectly capable of cooking. It is called Doncaster butterscotch, isn't it? And I am from Doncaster."

Satoru stared up at her in wide-eyed awe. Most of the inhabitants of Green Haven, were (like Satoru) looking at Sango, save for the few (including Inuyasha and Kikyou) who were looking at Miroku with a mixture of annoyance (Inuyasha) and respect on their faces.

The young woman kneeled down, looking the child in the eye.

"The next time I'm here, I'll make a batch," she told him sternly. "And we'll prove Friar Doubt wrong."

With that, she stood up again, patted Satoru on the head, and began to walk away. A young woman of equally messy looks scooped Satoru up, settling him into her lap to finish his supper. The young boy, however, was happier to watch Sango leave.

She didn't get far before Miroku caught up with her, and put a hand on her shoulder. She snapped around to face him, still in a bit of a huff (and completely unaware of Miroku's manipulation).

"Yes, Friar?" she prompted sharply, and he grinned at her.

"You have to wear this," he explained, holding up a blindfold. She looked at it dubiously, and he gave it a little wave.

"It doesn't bite, I promise."

Sango stuck out her tongue and spun around, lifting her hair out of the way. The Friar stepped forward, and began to tie the strip of fabric over her eyes.

"How do you intend to return to make Satoru's candy?" he asked as he fiddled with the knot. She gave a shrug.

"I'll get lost again, I suppose," she said. In all honesty, she didn't have a plan. She didn't even know why she said what she did. She couldn't cook. Maybe Ayame would teach her, and not ask many questions. Not likely – the woman was sweet, but she insisted on knowing everything.

"Or I'll give you this," he said, slipping something over her wrist. She heard the clack of wooden beads and felt the cool smoothness against her skin.

"The design on these beads match a design on a tree here."

"You want me to look for a tree," she said incredulously. "In a forest."

"Near where you were when you were grabbed. Don't worry – it's a pretty simple thing. Just wait there and someone will come get you."

"And if someone follows me?" she asked.

"You do worry so, Sango. Just don't be followed!" he chirped. With a firm tug, the blindfold was tied. Miroku leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

"Let's go!"

She flushed, allowing him to take her arm and guide her. What was his problem? He was so…nonchalant. More so than normal. It was like he was trying to fluster her. She couldn't even respond. After all, he was guiding her. And while giving him a good solid slap would salve her pride and modesty, it wouldn't get her home.

They walked along in a silence that felt natural to Miroku but horribly awkward to Sango. When they finally stopped, and he pulled off the blindfold, they were still in the trees.

"We're less than a mile from Doncaster," he told her. She nodded and rubbed her eyes against the fading light. Everything was slow to come into focus. She blinked at him for a minute or so before she could see properly.

"Thank you," she said quietly. He winked roguishly at her, bowing over her hand and placing a tiny kiss on the back of it.

"Until next we meet, Miss Sango. Fare well!"

She stood with another blush spreading over her cheeks for a moment as he disappeared back into the forest. When the color in her cheeks faded away, and even his echo was gone, she walked the rest of the way back into town. It had been a long day.

But it was about to get longer.

-

This chapter almost killed me. Thank heavens I know what I'm doing for at least…one more chapter. If not two. Hopefully two – maybe I can make this next thing spill over a little longer.

I was asked a question about the pairings, by Myriadragon. My response?

After several hours of thinking and watching The Slayers, I have to say that that…is a secret! XD

But really, so far it's Inu/Kik. I feel compelled to mention, though, that (a) they're not the focal pairing and (b) you never know…

Oh! And by the way…did anyone catch the little joke in the last chapter's title? I mean, aside from the obvious one…

Until next time!

Beta's notes: I almost killed myself laughing in this chapter Mental hugs and chocolate to you, Lily-chan!