Sango passed through the next few days in a fog, replaying the moment over and over in her mind. Was there some way that it wasn't as she thought it was? No, Umeko's laundry of the day after was testament to that. Part of her reminded her that she hadn't anything to say about it - she had no claim. And it was true; after all she hadn't wanted it. She had pushed it away with both hands.

The fact that no one noticed this inner trouble was a source of wry pride for her. After all, this wasn't something she wanted questions to be asked about, but at the same time, she wondered if perhaps this was a bad thing, that no one could read her. Or…almost nobody, anyway.

Kagome folded her arms and leaned against the tree in a way that reminded Sango strongly of Inuyasha.

"What's wrong?" the young maid - who had struck up a fast friendship with the hunter's daughter - asked in quietly firm tones. Sango shrugged, turning back to the laundry she was scrubbing in the river.

"It's nothing," she lied. "I'm tired from staff practice."

Kagome sighed.

"Sango, there's something wrong, I know it. And it's not just tiredness - we're all tired."

The older girl sat up and looked squarely at her friend.

"I'm not used to all of the strain, what with the practice on the staff, and learning knives and archery both. It's tiring."

Kagome shook her head, but said nothing. She glanced back towards the camp, suddenly remembering something, and gave a little shiver. Determined not to think about it, she began collecting up the sodden clothing to be run through the wringer and hung up to dry.

A little while later, the clothes wrung and now pinned to a long string in the middle of their camp, Sango parted with Kagome (who looked a tad nervous, Sango noted. She hoped she hadn't done anything to offend her) and went on to her practice, quickly grabbing her staff from the hut before she went. Two near-smooth grooves were cut into the wood, where a smiling Miroku had cut them so she could see where her hands fit.

"If you let them slip, you'll get your fingers banged - and smacking the hands of your opponent, is, by the way, the fastest way to get them to drop their weapon."

She had nodded, running her hands across the wood and into the grooves. Unfortunately, they didn't work with polished wood, and a splinter from the fresh groove had caught her finger. Blood welled up in the wound, and she cringed, popping the digit into her mouth. He had tugged on her hand, asking to see the splinter. His hands, rough and callused, had been firm when he pulled the sliver of wood from her finger, but he had lingered just a moment too long when the job was done. The blood, which had a moment ago rushed to her finger, had rushed to her face as he tied a little corner of his robes around her finger to stem the flow until practice was done.

He had acted as if it was nothing, but it wasn't nothing to her. Moments like those were slowly undoing her, driving her mad in ways that she didn't quite understand.

Pushing the thought from her mind, she rotated her shoulder and made for the clearing where they practiced.

She walked into the field, and was met with a sudden attack. Her staff was up in a flash, and she blocked the shot to her collarbone deftly. The talk with Kagome, and her own internal problems making her irritable, she returned the shot in kind, making for his knees. The attack was barely blocked - while Miroku may have been testing her reflexes, Sango had nearly a sennight's worth of frustration with herself fuelling her movement.

She attacked again, moving to a high blow, then another, followed by a shot to his ribs that connected through her fervor. He gave a grunt, his staff chiming in the air as he replied to her blows, feeling somewhat confused.

He'd known that there was much she wasn't telling him, a few tricks with archery, with the knife that perhaps she'd known already, but with the staff, she'd been untried. Raw. Still learning. Maybe she was paying attention to what he had said after all. This was an aptitude she'd not shown before, and he was both pleased and perturbed to see it.

Forgetting to mind her hands, she slid a little out, and he rapped her knuckles. She smiled oddly, somehow relieved by the sharp sting that the wood had caused her. She stepped forward, sliding her hands back into the grooves and locking her staff against his. He pressed his staff against hers, intending to use the same trick he had ages ago - nearly a full season, now - to topple her and win. But she had nearly a full season's knowledge now, and she let him push her over, bringing her feet up to flip him over her head - a favourite trick - and pin him.

Unfortunately, she forgot to account for his staff this time around, and he cracked the wood against her own weapon, forcing her to stand. He leapt up as well, and she made a face. It was so well done it was almost disgusting. He smiled, and attacked again.

They continued like this until the sun had reached the tops of the trees, when before it had been high in the sky. Every time Sango thought she was near a victory, he wriggled out of it somehow, until she was ready to throttle him.

She brought her staff down, intent on smacking his collarbone hard, and he blocked her once again. Struck suddenly with a mildly ironic idea, she locked his staff with hers and pushed the way he did. It worked - he lost his balance, and stumbled. She swung the butt of her staff up, knocking his own weapon from his hands, and gently pressed the side of the wood against his neck.

"Yield," Sango said, panting for breath. He smiled, and raised his hands - he too was exhausted.

"Well met, Sango," he said when she put her staff against a tree and grabbed a flask from beside the rock, draining part of it into her mouth, and the rest over her head. Miroku only sipped from his, not feeling the heat the way Sango did with her long hair. Strands of it stuck to her face, and her cheeks were pink with exertion. He looked at her with a softness he hadn't felt in a long time, but she was unawares, busy wringing out her hair and tying it back again, without messy locks in her face.

He looked at the sky, and was surprised.

"I think that's it for the day, actually, it's pretty late."

"I doubt I could do much anyhow," she agreed, picking her staff up once more, waiting for him to be ready. He pulled his overrobe over his head, tied it to his under robe, grabbed his staff, and they began to walk.

As soon as they saw the flurry through the trees, that walk became a run. They came upon the camp, and were shocked. Everyone was busy, treating the wounded. Nearly half of those who had been sent out in a hunting party earlier that day were being treated for troublesome-looking wounds, some were helping, their wounds mere grazes, but at least six, or maybe eight, were nowhere to be seen. That could be explained, though, by the activity, Sango thought. It doesn't mean they're…

What had they missed in the hours they'd been gone?

Miroku touched her arm, and she looked at him. His blue eyes flashed with anger, but somehow, she understood it was not her he was cross with. It was something in his touch, in the way the anger was held just above something else…

"I must find Inuyasha," he said. "He'll know what has happened here."

She nodded, intent on finding someone herself. Why had Kagome looked so nervous earlier? Suddenly, it was vital that she knew. She found the girl not too long after, bringing fresh water to Wakana, who was cleaning Shinnosuke's wounds. He was burned and scored in odd patterns, all of it looking painful.

"Kagome," Sango called, and the girl looked up. Gently, she touched Wakana's arm, a quick, mutual exchange in French (which confused the hunter's daughter, who had spoken only Saxon since the day she was born), and Kagome stood.

"I know," she sighed as they entered Umao and Arashi's hut to get fresh bandages. Sango had, quite bluntly, asked if she knew anything when she pulled her away from Wakana.

"My Lady had suggested…I thought perhaps she was wrong. Now I see that I was the one mistaken."

The older girl caught her arm, and looked her in the eye.

"Kagome. What's happened?"

"That's easy enough to understand," a gruff male voice said from the entrance. Both women turned to see Inuyasha and Miroku, both looking very tired. "Abi's birds have been to visit."

"A…bi?" Sango sounded out, confused. Miroku gestured for her to sit.

"Kagome, if you would be so kind as to bring those bandages out. We can explain."

"You'd better," Sango growled, folding her arms as she sat. She was getting rather tired of not knowing these things until it was too late to do anything.

"I tried to tell you a while ago, Sango, but we got…distracted," Miroku said, and she had a flash vision of the robbery, and the mismatched beginning to his speech.

"We're hunted men, you know that," Inuyasha interjected. "I don't think you need to know much more than that means we have enemies."

"Like hell!" she cried, leaping up. "Enemies who send demon birds after you, who apparently - judging by what I've seen - spit fire! I think that's something that might be nice to have forewarning about!"

"You're right," Miroku said, sending Inuyasha a look that clearly said 'shut up'.

"Not terribly long ago, a few years back, I suppose, we found out about the bounty on our heads. Never mind that I'm a priest -"

"Friar," the half-demon interjected. Miroku went on as if he hadn't heard.

"- and was only giving sanctuary. Nonetheless, we were unconcerned. We stayed away from those who would turn us in, and made do with the contacts I had in town. Things were…okay. And then Arashi came. She was running, like us, from Hakudoshi. She had killed one of his men, who'd tried to take liberties she wasn't willing to give. We let her stay. Several others followed, their families with them. Shinnosuke, who was actually seeking his paramour - we collected Wakana from her father not long after that. Nazuna came with Umeko, they're sisters you know. They had a thieving act going, and got caught out. Umao brought Satoru - only three, then, as they ran from land taxes they couldn't pay. There are lots of stories like these, Sango. We gave shelter to them all. Eventually, we had Green Haven. The thieving didn't start until about a year ago, when taxes went up to more than double what they'd been before - which is much, even for Nottinghamshire.

"And then Yura came. Yura, and her two cohorts, one whose name was Tsubaki and another young woman whose name we never knew. They were after our bounty, and made life difficult for us for awhile. It was from them, though, that we gleaned a very important bit of information. Hakudoshi was cross enough with us that he has paid a certain bandit - the sort who does not stick to the Thieves Code as we do - handsomely, with clemency and land, to kill us both. Well, we finished with them not long after we met you, Sango," here he paused to smile charmingly, taking the edge off of what he said (it worked, she went pink), "but that was not the end of it.

"We had thought that perhaps it was one of them who was paid - specifically, Yura. But it wasn't. Another young woman, another demon (yes, Yura was a demon of the nastiest sort) was the one who Hakudoshi had paid so well. It was only just last night, however, from Lady Kikyou, that we learned her name. She goes by the title 'Princess Abi' and wields an army of wicked birds. They don't spit fire, though, no, that would be too easy. They are fires. They can burst into flame at a moment's notice, striking with sharp talons and wicked beaks. Kikyou also mentioned she might be coming to visit one of these days, and to keep an eye out.

"Unfortunately, in our infinite wisdom, we did not deem it necessary to worry about immediately. We did not expect her to strike so soon."

He finished abruptly, watching her face for signs of a reaction - any reaction. She frowned, clearly worried.

"Not only that, but the bitch bore a message for us as well. For me," Inuyasha spat. "There's to be a tournament in a week's time, in archery. It's more than likely a trap."

"It's most certainly a trap," Kikyou said, striding into the slowly crowding hut. "But that's not our concern. We do not need the winner's purse badly enough to risk it."

"It's not just a trap," the half-demon growled, turning to look at her. "It's a challenge. To me. I can't not meet that!"

"Actually, it's very easy for you not to," the Lady replied, and Sango was surprised to hear an edge to her normally cool voice. Miroku leaned down to whisper to her.

"I don't think we'll be wanting to stay for this," he suggested quietly, his voice gliding along warm air that tickled her ear and made her shiver agreeably. They sidestepped the arguing couple, and walked out into the considerably calmer night air. Dinner had been forgotten in the earlier foray, so many were seated around the stew pot, having a quick bite.

"What's the damage?" Sango asked carefully.

"Twelve dead, in all. Mostly wounded, though we'll probably lose a number of them as well," he said, his voice hard. "We have to go into town soon."

"To…"

"To tell Kirei that Shikako won't be coming home."

Sango put her hands to her mouth. She hadn't known Kirei very well, only having met Shikako's fiancée once, but she knew that this would be a devastating blow. And she had known Shikako. She had liked him. He was funny, always doing something stupid to get one of the cooks mad at him. She stopped walking for a minute.

"Who…who else," she asked quietly.

He listed off the other 11 victims, and her heart fell a little bit more with every one. Some of the names were familiar to her, some of them not. Aizawa had challenged her to a wrestling match when she first joined the hunting team, and she had beaten him properly, his brother had sat to the side and laughed. Yusuke had helped her wrap the hilt of her knife, and had given her a proper sheath for it in exchange for the eardrops she picked up in the market for his wife. Kimihiro had exploded into a (apparently common) fury when she informed him that his fishing net could no longer be 'patched up one more time', and then offered to teach her how to use the new one.

These people were her friends. She'd hunted with them - today hadn't been her round, though. She'd supped with them, laughed with them, hell, even fought with them a time or two. But to see them come to an end such as this…

Miroku put an arm around her shoulder, and she leaned against him, forgetting to be nervous. Death seemed to follow her, and she was getting sick of it.

"There's more to Princess Abi's message," he said huskily. She looked up at him with haunted eyes, and more than anything at that moment he wanted to forget the rest of the message and kiss her until the laughter returned to her expression. But he couldn't do that - she'd made it perfectly clear that that sort of comfort was not what she wanted. And so the moment passed, and he told her.

"Prince Naraku has requested that either myself or Inuyasha speak with him, two nights hence. Inuyasha won't go, he's got enough on his hands with Princess Abi and Hakudoshi's tournament."

"And Lady Kikyou," Sango sighed with a wry smile, stepping away from Miroku. He let her go, watching the movement and hating every word he spoke.

"And Lady Kikyou," he said with a smile. "I leave tomorrow, to make it all the way up to the castle."

She said nothing, only looked down. He, however, never took his eyes off her. Sango, feeling very confused, simply stood there, reeling from the knowledge that he would leave the next morning, that many of their friends were dead, that Naraku would most likely kill him…

"Miroku! Sango!" Kagome ran up to them, her face drawn and pale. "We've no more bandages, and still many dressings to change."

Miroku looked at her, feeling as if he had awoken from a dream, and nodded.

"There are spare linens in my hut, I'll be there shortly."

She nodded, and ran off. The Friar looked back at Sango, who met his gaze tiredly.

"I believe I will retire, now. It's late, and it's been a long day. Goodnight, Friar," she said in that quiet voice he knew meant that she would most likely not sleep that night. However, she did, though her dreams were plagued by warped memories of people she'd never see again…

---

"Friar!" she called, running over to him. He looked at her, and smiled. He had been somewhat concerned the night before, but she seemed better that morning. Her jaw was set in the usual, stubborn way, and she seemed much more…lively than she had last night. It was good to see she was back to her old self, at least on the surface.

"Come to see me off? How kind…"

She ignored his silliness, opting for a more direct approach. There was nothing to it, but this one, last attempt to stop him. Maybe it was because of Shikako and the other 11 who had died, but she wasn't about to let him march off to his death without at least trying.

Trying what, however, she wasn't so sure of.

"You're really going then?"

He nodded, still smiling. Sango paled, and her eyes widened. If he left, chances were he wouldn't come back. Few called to visit directly with Naraku returned whole and hale. She protested, telling him so.

"I know," Miroku replied grimly. "But it's better me than Inuyasha. Naraku may think twice about striking a man of the cloth, but not a half demon."

"And besides," he joked, "I'm just a lecherous Friar. I won't be missed as badly."

"That's not true!" she cried. "If you get yourself killed, I –"

Sango stopped, turning pink. Whatever she was trying to do, she was succeeding in making a fool of herself. He looked at her, a funny sort of smile on his face, but before either of them could speak, Kikyou called to him.

"Miroku! We've not long before the boat arrives."

He shouted back an affirmative, and placed a hand on Sango's shoulder.

"I'll return," he promised.

"You'd better," she warned, and before she could think twice about it, she darted in and gave him a peck on the lips.

Her blush was brilliant now, and she turned away – though she took barely two steps before Miroku grabbed her wrist, tilted her chin up, and pressed his lips to hers. Warmth (and shock) flooded Sango's body. She leaned into the kiss briefly, and then they broke apart.

"I'll die happy," he murmured, running his fingers gently through her hair. Still pink, she grabbed his hand and looked up at him. She'd worry about the ramifications of kissing him (had she, really? It felt so strange, but somehow right) later.

"If you do die, I swear, I'll…"

"Miroku! Today, if you don't mind."

He looked softly at her, his voice teasing.

"You know, it'll be much more useful to think about what to do when I come back alive."

With a final wink, he departed, and Sango was suddenly aware of the fact that everyone's eyes were on her. Miroku did not have such problems, though what he went to face was far more worrisome.

He sat quietly in the boat, next to Kikyou, his hood drawn up to hide his face. Neither of them spoke, for fear of their identities being discovered. She could not afford to be associated with them. The silence gave him time to think about Sango. About that kiss, yes, but mostly about the night before, and the dark look she had.

It was only recently that she had begun to gain a lively attitude. She was still quiet, and surly, and a little difficult to understand, but there had been something lighter about how she'd carried herself, compared to the weight on her shoulders when she first arrived. Seeing her with that darkened expression now, though, he understood why Inuyasha wanted so badly to clear his name. For Kikyou, he'd growled, which Miroku had thought foolish at that time, but now he understood a little better. It was about what they deserved. Kikyou deserved a lover who she could legitimize, and Sango…

Sango deserved a life full of laughter. Full of life itself, and light, after struggling through the dark. It was this thought, and it's companions, that kept Miroku occupied during the long way to Naraku's palace.