This chapter is dedicated to Cold Kikyo, for reviewing not only once, but three times. And thanks to N.A.C.- your review made me chuckle, a rare thing indeed.

And here it is, a fun chapter. Enjoy.

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The forest was green and lush, full of vibrant life. Birds chirped against a perfectly azure sky while a family of rabbits scampered beneath moss covered logs. The scene was perfectly picteresque. Naraku loathed it.

Glaring around at his surroundings with unmasked disdain, Naraku felt none of the peace most who came here did. The "great" outdoors held little calming quality to a disturbed mind such as his. Indeed, he felt most at home just there, home. He rarely left whenever possible. His pale complexion was the result of this.

But today, he was a man on a mission. If Naraku had ever gone to a psychologist, the doctor would have prescribed two things: a woman's companionship, and a hobby. Soon after, Naraku would have removed his head to keep him from telling anyone the conversation had ever taken place. But as of late, he was surprised to find he had actually found something he liked to do in his spare time. That is, when he wasn't plotting to take over the world.

Bending down, he removed a wide blade from the waist of his pants and began to carve out a deep sphere of clay for his pottery project. The soft touch of the clay soothed him like nothing else could. The smell reminded him of something... or perhaps someone.

Quite suddenly, with inhuman speed and grace, Naraku spun. For a moment, he thought he heard something. Frowning, he focused. There was something near. A growling something.

Shrugging, he turned back to his task. As nothing could hurt him, he felt no concern. A few more deft slices, and the sphere of clay was ready for transport. Dropping the material quickly into a small leather pouch, he started to reach for the blade still stuck in the dirt.

A loud, low-pitched scream of blood lust shook the forest. Instinctively, Naraku spun again, grabbing at his sword. Unfortuneately, as his head was swivelled in the other direction, he didn't see where his hand was grabbing.

He bit his lip hard as his hand was severed nearly in half when he gripped the blade and not the hilt. Ignoring the hungry sounds coming closer with alarming speed, he turned to regard the damage. To his disgust, he had really done a number on himself. The cut was horizontal across his palm and fingers, and so deep that bone had been knicked and a couple of digits hung loosely. If he had been entirely human, the blood loss alone would have killed him. As it was, he wouldn't die from a wound like this. However... he glanced back through the trembling trees warily. As arrogant as he was, Naraku knew when he was in no shape to fight. Cursing the clay, the blade, and his own stupidity, he gathered up his things quickly and sprinted in the direction of his castle.

The beast burst through the trees a moment later. Naraku glanced at it only once, and immeadiately increased his speed. The beast was a large purple demon, at least twenty feet high. Reddened eyes portruded from it's square head, making the creature seem crazy. It's growling and drooling certainly added to this impression. But what worried Naraku the most was its incisors- comparible to the size of a man, they could easily slice him down the middle with one well-aimed thrust.

Leaping over logs and dodging treacherously low tree branches, Naraku thought as fast as his blood-deprived brain would allow. Not only was his furiously beating heart making things worse by pumping out his life force, but there was now a perfect red trail that even a mindless monster could follow. He glanced up, peering through a red haze and the trees to where he knew his castle was. Shit, he swore. He would never get there in time.

He shot a look over his shoulder. So after all those magnificent battles against the best of the best, the Naraku was going to die under the claws of some nameless demon who probably could never understand who he was eating? The thought was so proposterous that Naraku nearly laughed. Nearly.

Well then, running was getting tiresome, fighting was not a good idea, being eaten was out of the question. Hiding?

"The caves," he panted out loud. Turning left suddenly, he smirked at the sound of a large body crashing into a tree. Big bodies were frightening for sure, but they had no capacity for grace.

Naraku knew he was slowing when the beast caught up a few minutes later. Luckily, the stone mountain that was riddled with natural caverns was straight ahead. Gritting his teeth, he used his last ounce of strength to propel himself through the first opening in the rock wall he saw. The beast howled outside, wailing on the outer walls with full claws. Naraku scrambled backwards crab-like, knowing it was only a matter of time before the demon crumbled the wall of stone seperating him from his food. Naraku squinted into the darkness. Surely there was another way out; this mountain was quite the ant hill.

Pulling himself to his feet he jogged into the darkness, red eyes expanding to take in more light. Feeling light-headed, he braced himself on either side of the small tunnel. A moment later, he stopped, hands on knees to rest. Surely he had lots of time.

Behind him, rocks shattered and the cavern shook. He sighed. He really wasn't in the mood for this type of excercise today.

He ran. The beast pursued.

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Kikyo was shaken awake roughly. Looking around in alarm, she watched as fine dust was dislodged from the ceiling, falling to lightly coat her campfire. The light was dimming quickly. Earthquake?

Quickly, she scrambled to her feet. Both the monk and Kagura had been clear she was never to leave the cave, but if she listened to them in this case, her rescuers wouldn't have a patient to worry about anymore.

With chunks of rock falling freely around her head, Kikyo launched blindly into the dark, holding her breath to keep from inhaling dangerous amounts of dust. Stones pummelled her body.

The shaking was getting worse. She frowned, stopping a moment to cough into her arm. She was beginning to suspect this wasn't an abnormally long earthquake after all.

She began to run again, but was stopped suddenly when she ran into another body running in the other direction. Yelping, she flailed her arms futilely, trying to keep herself from falling. In the end though, it wasn't her pathetic efforts that kept her off the ground, but a strong arm grabbing hers.

"You don't want to go that way," a gruff voice said. The arm pulled her along, back the way she had come.

Naraku lost track of how far he had been running. All he knew was that the monster was truly hungry to keep coming after him. Surely there was some easier prey around? Squinting into the dark, he gripped the woman's wrist unconciously. How much of a lead would throwing her to the beast give him?

"In here!" The woman shouted suddenly, taking off to the right. Thrown off guard, Naraku followed. This new tunnel led up hill. Slowly, the sounds of destruction faded and the darkness peeled away. Reaching a natural sun-bathed stone balconey, Naraku collapsed, dragging the other escapee down with him. He lay there for a few seconds, panting. All this trouble over a pottery project, he snarled at himself silently.

"Naraku?" The woman whispered suddenly. Naraku looked over in annoyance. The sight had him feeling sick.

It was his priestess.

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Miroku trudged back to his makeshift campsite after another afternoon of watching over Kikyo until she fell asleep. He was glad for some time to think. He had been gone for nearly two weeks now; no doubt his friends were concerned about him. Well, maybe not Inuyasha. The monk winced. Sooner or later, he acknowledged, he would have to face the music.

But until that unfortunate time, he sighed, arriving at the small clearing he had inhabited for a while now, he would just have to live with the fact that he might never be able to rejoin the circle. He closed his eyes and sat at the base of a tree, not bothering to pull out his sleeping pad. Sango's form swam against his lids, smiling at him shyly, reaching out to touch his face. It was the memory of the night they had first... Miroku sighed. He had slept with so many women in his life, and asked many more. His reasons had been to provide a son before he died, someone to vanquish Naraku and destroy the family curse before he died. Sango had been different. He smiled gently.

"Miroku," her soft voice came. Miroku sighed again in bliss, ready to indulge in a fantasy. Or perhaps just a memory; there were plenty to choose from.

"Miroku," it came again, more demanding. Miroku frowned and opened his eyes. Had he mistaken Kagura's voice for Sango's?

There she stood, a vision in... mud stained clothes. Miroku stood quickly. What was she doing here?

Sango's face was swollen and stained with tears. Long black hair strands hung limp and lifeless, like the rest of her body. Her eyes had lost their sparkle. Miroku winced visibly; only grief could do this to such a beautiful woman.

"What are you doing here?" He said quietly. As much as he longed for her company, this was a really bad time. If she found out about Kikyo, everything would have been for nothing. If she found out about the alliance with Kagura... things could get out of hand.

When Sango didn't answer, Miroku jumped to the worst conclusion. "Oh no, is Kagome..."

"She's alive."

"Ah."

Silence.

Miroku broke down, needing to touch her. "Sango," he started, stepping forward and reaching for her hand. To his dismay, she immeadiately stepped back.

"Don't touch me. You left without saying anything. Why?" Her face was impenetrable, eyes cold and hard. Miroku had only ever seen her like this whenever Naraku was mentioned. It was meant to push people away, to keep anyone from breaching her defenses... it scared him. What's more, he could only blame himself for the change.

"I... had something I had to do," he avoided her eyes. They knew him too well.

"Of course," she replied, no emotion in her voice. She paused. "Kagome needed you," she said finally.

Miroku quirked an eyebrow. "I don't believe this is about Kagome."

Sango's eyes grew brighter and seemed to quiver. She looked to the ground, unable to watch the carefully chosen words come out of her lover's mouth. "I needed you," she whispered, nearly too quiet for Miroku to hear. The trigger was immeadiate, and the tears fell.

She couldn't have fought if she wanted too. She closed her eyes as Miroku drew into his arms, one hand gripping her shoulder and the other tangling in her hair.

"I'm sorry," he whispered against her hair. His grip tightened.

Both would have stayed that way for a long time, but Sango came to her senses. She pushed him away quickly, trying to ignore the hurt look in his eyes. This was not something that could just be fixed by a hug.

"Tell me everything," she ordered. The tone of her voice left no room for discussion.

Miroku sighed and retook his seat, patting the empty space beside him as an invitation. Sango obliged.

"I... had to get away," he lied, a headache already growing persistant. He wished he could tell her the truth more than she could ever believe. "After I... after Kikyo..."

A reasurring hand took his trembling one. The loving gesture was nearly enough to make him blurt out everything. He knew he could be ruining any chance they had together, for an honest girl such as Sango would never, could never, understand why the man she loved would feel the need to lie to her. There would never be any going back to the way things were before.

"I understand," she said quietly, rubbing her thumb up and down his palm. "But why couldn't you tell me?" Her eyes radiated hurt.

Miroku looked away. "There's something else going on... someone else involved."

The gentle hand withdrew. "Who?"

Miroku was silent. Sango persisted.

"A woman?" Miroku could not miss the pain in her voice. He wished he hadn't asked so many woman to sleep with him in front of her. How could she ever trust him now?

"Look, Sango, it's not what you think-"

"Whatever have we here," another female voice came from the bushes. Sango looked over quickly. Miroku, used to the voice by now, just closed his eyes in defeat.

"The demon slayer," Kagura drawled. Miroku opened his eyes slowly to discover a heartless smirk on her lips. She would reveal everything.

"Kagura," Sango hissed, eyes darting to the wind sorceress's side, where she had left her weapon and Kirara. She was horrified to see Kirara unconcious. The boomerang was nowhere to be seen. Nevertheless, she raised herself to her feet, ready for some good old hand to hand combat.

Beside her, Miroku stood. "Why are you here?" He asked quietly.

Kagura tapped her fan against her mouth, regarding Sango's condition for a moment with cynical glee. "Something's happened and I need to talk to you."

Miroku felt Sango tense beside him. "Can it wait?" He asked after a moment.

It was the wrong reply. Kagura's eyes flashed angrily. Before Miroku could stop her, she lowered her fan and leaned against the nearest tree suggestively. "What's wrong, my love? Haven't you told the girl yet that you like real women?"

A wave of nausea rolled over Miroku. Sango, slightly ahead of him, might as well have been made of stone.

"Sango," he began. Kagura would have none of it. She was in front of him in an instant. Before he could react, her lips were pressed against his, their bodies locked. Miroku froze, horrified. Her face shifted, lips gliding across his cheek to his ear, stroking his hair.

"Kikyo's gone. There's blood all over what's left of the cave."

Miroku jumped out of her callous embrace, eyes wide. Kagura watched his face closely. Seeing he was in too much shock to cover his horror, she donned a smirk and turned to Sango, who was watching the exchange and looking like she wanted to kill herself.

"For such a pervert," Kagura laughed lightly, "he has such a weak stomach when it comes to the subject of bondage." She winked at Sango. "Didn't you two ever try spiked whips?"

Even though it was getting dark, Miroku could swear Sango went green. He himself couldn't have looked much better.

He blinked to clear his head. Both Sango and Kikyo needed him. He raised his eyes to meet Kagura's. To his surprise, he saw pity. But there was also determination. They had come this far. Kikyo was their responsibility.

The pain nearly too much for him to bear, he turned to Sango. "Go home, Sango." Unable to look into her face anymore, he turned away, letting Kagura take his hand and pull him in the direction of the cave.

A shrill voice stopped the two in their tracks. "Miroku, don't, you can't leave! I'm pregnant!"

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Feeling ripped off? Don't worry, full Naraku/Kikyo reunion next chapter. And we'll get back to Miroku and Sango eventually, possibly next time.

Wondering about the "random" hobby choice? Kikyo's made of clay. Just making sure...

Please review. You know they keep me/the storygoing.