&&&&&&&

'Am I..?'

Sango's consciousness was adrift, passively floating within a sea of warm, undulating sensation. Her acute sense of anguish and futility over her inability to stop Kikyo, as well as the mind-numbing pain that preceded her death, soon melted into a feeling of detached calm, of peace. Her heightened awareness also detected the soothing scent of something resembling sakura blossoms as she moved through the nothingness. She was a bit puzzled, thinking she had been completely destroyed by the priestess. The abomination that was once Kikyo merely consumed a soul's energy, however. The kernel of the soul itself was indestructible, immortal. Sango felt no fear. On the contrary, she couldn't remember feeling more protected, ever.

Her body, such as it was, began to relax as the stress of her lifetime upon the earth gradually began to evaporate. She could sense a presence waiting patiently for her, allowing her to bask in this feeling for as long as she needed. A huntress in life, she knew that she need hunt no longer. Everything she had ever wanted in that life was right here, right within her grasp. As she contemplated this, it was at first overwhelming, coming as she had from a lifetime in which she had to fight for everything, often even to preserve life itself. She acknowledged the presence and silently thanked it even as she indicated her readiness. Presently, the story of her most recent incarnation began to reveal itself to her, chapter by chapter, starting with her entry into the world.

Sango's birth had turned out to be quite a difficult one for her, as well as for her mother.

Indeed, her mother had become so ill during and after childbirth that she couldn't properly care for her, and one of the other village women had to care for as well as wet nurse the infant. She and her mother thus lost the singular opportunity to experience post-natal bonding, a situation from which their relationship with each other would never fully recover. Until the day she died, Sango's inability to get close emotionally to anyone other than her father and her brothers would often be mistaken for aloofness, or worse, condescension.

Already, at the very beginning of her life, she was a step behind, her efforts forever after a continued attempt to catch up. She looked on as the play that was her life continued.

The life of a demon-slayer was indeed a difficult one. Many of Sango's family, aunts, uncles and cousins among them, left on expeditions at the request of their patrons. Some never returned. Early on, she would ask as to their whereabouts, only to be told that their spirits had gone to reunite with the Great Spirit. As she got older, and until she was actually of age to accompany her clan on expeditions, Sango made a point of requesting some small personal token from each member of the departing team, perhaps a ring or a pendant, with a promise to return it to them when they came back. For those whose remains were carried back for burial, Sango was allowed to place the tokens they had given her alongside their bodies during the Ritual of the Final Sleep. And for those whose remains were never recovered, who were either eaten by demons or their bodies lost or completely destroyed during battle, the young Sango kept their tokens in a small shrine she maintained in her area of the hut. Periodically, when she was not training, or keeping house, or learning to cook (she did want to become a dutiful wife and mother herself one day), she sat in contemplation and prayer with those reminders of friends and family who she would never see again, but to whom she made a vow to never forget.

Death was an occupational hazard among the taijiya clan, and so they celebrated life whenever they could, through the myriad of festivals they held whenever they were not training, or off hunting. Often, the men would drink a bit too much of the rice wine, and, human nature being what it is, things sometimes got out of control.

High levels of alcohol and testosterone are a perfect combination to induce, at best, wild tales of the most boastful nature. At worst, it can enable situations to often spiral out of control, turning innocent forms of competitive one-upsmanship into physical, often bloody violence. Of course the women had to then intervene and collect their men, saving them from themselves, chiding that they inflicted more damage upon each other than any demon ever could. One such episode involving Sango's own father brought back that memory quite vividly. She had been three years old at the time, and as her mother rolled her father into his sleeping mat, then went off to finish what she was doing, Sango made her way over to him. She hadn't understood why okaa-san was so cross with him. After observing his sleeping features for a moment, and looking back over at where her mother was working, she grasped his kimono with her little fists and climbed up onto his rumbling chest, awakening him for just a moment.

"Sango-chan..."

He mumbled as he wrapped an arm around her to prevent her from falling off. Then he went back to sleep. She put her head down on his chest and followed him soon after, his snoring having a marvelously relaxing affect on her.

As another, later life-episode revealed itself, she sat beside him as he crafted an early version of Hiraikotsu, smaller and lighter than the one she would eventually carry with her. He patiently worked with her as she again and again dodged its return to her out of fear of being struck by it. She simply couldn't gauge its speed correctly in order to catch it. Sensing her frustration at her inability to please him, he ended the training session early.

"I think that's enough for today. Are you hungry?"

"Hai, jifu."

"Let's see what we can get our hands on while your mother is distracted."

Her disposition brightened immediately, a smile spreading across her face.

"O.k."

Her father was her first love. She would have walked through fire if he asked her to.

Through these moments-of-life, Sango reviewed her early years. Her story continued through her childhood, including the birth of her brother Kohaku, when she was five years old, and then Kuwato, when she was nine.

Although Sango loved Kohaku dearly, she and Kuwato were inseparable; she had begged for every opportunity to help with him, pleading that she was old enough to do so. Her mother was thankful to have such a dutiful daughter as she had become pregnant once again. Soon, out of necessity, the young Sango became Kuwato's main caretaker. As such, she would often nuzzle and coo to him as she bounced him on her lap, or waddled with him on her hip, or strapped him to her chest as she went about her chores. Luckily for all, Sango was a big girl for her age, and surprisingly strong. The other women of the clan always laughed when they saw her with her brother, carrying him about as if he was the prince of the realm. Sango didn't care. Kuwato might as well have been her own son, as much as she fussed over him.

Then her nightmare began.

Sango's mother had fallen ill once again, seemingly never able to adjust to the stresses of pregnancy. Sango wanted to make some tea to alleviate her mother's discomfort and had gone to the storage area, only to find that the herbs she needed were all gone. She resolved then to ask some of the other women of the village, and wrapped Kuwato to take him along after she cleaned and changed him. Four-year-old Kohaku was very sleepy just then and was starting to doze off. He had helped her that afternoon carry water from the well in a little bucket their father made just for him, and hadn't napped yet, so she tucked him into his sleeping mat after giving him a treat of sweet bean paste. He was sound asleep within minutes.

After checking that everything else was as it should be, she set Kuwato down near his brother and went to their mother's bedside. She knew that although he had been weaned, her youngest brother was still somewhat spoiled, and would want to nurse as soon as he saw his mother, who was in no condition for that right now.

Besides which, he was teething.

"Okaa-san, I'm leaving now. Kohaku is asleep, and I'm taking Kuwato."

"Sango-chan, you are the most wonderful daughter a mother could ask for. I will make it up to you, I promise." Her mother said weakly.

After kissing her mother goodbye, Sango went to collect her youngest brother and leave. She would have to hurry, as it was getting dark and she would need to help with supper. Actually, she would be the one to prepare supper, with as much help from her mother as the woman could provide in her condition.

Sango hurried about from hut to hut, each answer to her request the same.

"I'm so sorry, dear, but we haven't any right now."

After leaving the fifth dwelling with the result being the same, Sango thought about her options. She knew where she could find some of the herbs. There was a grotto about a half mile outside the village to the southeast. If she moved quickly, she could get there and back within half an hour. The thought of making the trip continued to tease her even as her father's words rang again and again in her head.

'Never leave the village alone, much less so when it's dark.'

But her mother was suffering, and if Sango could get the herbs and brew the tea...

Before she could talk herself out of it, Sango approached the gate. The sentry was on guard, and, smiling as he recognized her, knelt to speak.

"Well, if it isn't Sango-chan! And her "son" Kuwato. Heh heh. Your father is away with the second group, that's right. What are you doing here? Don't tell me you want to leave the village at this time in the evening?"

"Hai, Boaku-sama. Mother is not feeling well and I need to get the wild-wort to make tea for her. No one has any left, so I need to go to the southern grotto."

"I'm so sorry, but I couldn't let you do that, little one. Nightfall is approaching and... what!"

They both turned in the direction of the crashing sound. Loud, argumentative voices followed. Instinctively, Boaku ran off to investigate. Sango didn't let the opportunity pass, and slipped outside the gate.

As she calculated, it took her about twelve minutes to reach the grotto. Kuwato began to get restless and bleated out his desire to eat and sleep. Sango took a piece of sweet root from her pouch and bit the end off with her teeth before sucking the sap up to the end. She then placed the tip against his gum, where surprisingly, another tooth was forming. It wasn't long before he was smacking away contentedly. That would have to do until they got back home and she could prepare his evening meal.

At the grotto, she recognized in the diminishing light the opening to the rock formation which was actually a small cave about fifteen feet above ground level. She would have to climb up in order to enter the cave, but she had done so before; all she needed was to remember the hand and footholds. The herbs grew within, flourishing in the damp darkness, not unlike mushrooms. Sango looked about to make certain the area was clear, and then set her brother down upon the soft grass at the base of the rock formation. He continued to coo as he exercised his gums on the piece of root.

"I'll be right back, Kuwato. I can't climb up with you. Don't be afraid, o.k?"

She kissed his forehead and fussed about him some more, making certain he was bundled up properly to prevent a chill, and then began her climb, carefully recalling all the hand and footholds.

Even in the darkness of the cave, she could tell by their smell and feel that she had found what she was after, and in a matter of moments, had collected more than enough for her needs. The rest she would offer to the other village women to replenish their supply.

Young Sango then felt her way out of the darkness and into the twilight, and before turning feet first for her descent, she peered over the edge of rock face to check on her brother. Immediately and simultaneously, her breathing stopped, her blood pounded in her ears, and a chill seized her young body.

He was gone.

"K... Kuwato!"

Dropping the pouch containing the herbs, she scurried down the rock face, actually slipping and falling the last five feet to the ground, twisting her left ankle. She frantically looked about.

"Kuwato!"

This could not be happening. Her young mind tried to process the situation. Where was he?

Then she heard him scream, a shrill, high pitched wail, and her blood curdled. Unsheathing the small blade she carried, she took off in the direction of the sound. Her heart hammered away, much too big for her ribcage.

He was all right.

He was all right.

He was all right.

Whatever had happened, she only had to get to him, and then everything was going to be all right.

The smaller branches of the thicket cut into her arms and cheeks as she ran, and the pain from her ankle sprain shot up through her leg as she stumbled forward, but she had no time to hobble, never slowing in her single-minded determination to find him, to reach him, to save him. Two things dominated her consciousness, the intense desire to get to him, and the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that screamed at her that it was already too late.

She reached a clearing and stopped dead in her tracks. A bat demon, the size of an adult Akita, had Kuwato in its clutches, and was flapping about, trying to gain enough wind to take off with its catch. It would get about five feet off the ground, then Kuwato would slip from its clutches, hitting the ground with a sickening thud. It flapped its wings and grappled the infant to try again, even as it bared its teeth at the young girl, daring her to come any closer. Then she noticed that Kuwato was not moving, and her insides melted.

With a shriek that came from parts unknown inside her, Sango ran toward the demon, and it charged her as well, not wanting to relinquish its gain. It struck first, sinking its teeth into her shoulder. The pain was blinding, but Sango remembered her father's training, and thrust upward with her blade, sinking it into the beast's abdomen, despite its efforts to dodge her counter-move. It screeched but continued its attack, biting her once again, and its talons sliced across her back as it clawed at her, but Sango cut through one of its wings with her next strike. It struck her with the other wing to throw her off balance, and succeeded in doing so, both combatants falling to the ground in a macabre dance of death.

One thing dominated Sango's mind. If Kuwato was still alive, then she would not die tonight.

Not tonight.

The beast released her shoulder and attacked her throat with its next attempt, but Sango blocked its move with her forearm, feeling the sting of its teeth through her flesh once again. It left itself exposed with that all-or-nothing attack, however, and, looking into yellow eyes not even a foot away from her face, Sango sank her blade right into its heart.

Again.

And again.

It hissed as it relaxed its grip on her arm before falling from her, dead. In her rage and anguish, she continued to stab it, its blood spurting out, covering her arms and torso.

She then dropped her weapon and crawled painfully over to where her brother lay. Cradling him in her arms, she rocked back and forth, singing to him the lullaby that was his favorite. It was his last.

That was how Boaku and the other men found her.

&&&&&&&

Even as the women gently lay her bandaged body upon her mat, Sango could hear her mother's wailing as she was given the awful news. The sound cut through her, leaving her raw. Kuwato was dead, and it was her fault. The pain from her physical wounds was almost exhilarating compared to thousands of knives stabbing at her heart. Sango didn't know if she could continue to live with the agony. She couldn't bring herself to ask forgiveness of her mother or even her father. She contemplated the look on his face when he returned home to the awful news. She could never, would never forgive herself. At that moment, at nine years old, Sango closed her eyes and begged for death, if only it would take her.

&&&&&&&

Of course, Sango's mother went into early labor as a result of the added stress of losing Kuwato. The baby was stillborn, a girl. Another knife into Sango's heart. She survived, however. Somehow, from somewhere, the young girl found the strength within her to move forward. The angst over that episode of her life was one of the things that fueled her desire to become the best of the Taijiya clan, even though she was one of the youngest.

As she watched the story of her early life continue, Sango felt the immense wave of guilt arise once again. In spite of her father's continued consolation, Sango never found redemption for those two lives lost. Later, had not that deep-seated emotion caused her hesitation for the briefest of moments, there might have even been a third.

Sango had finally caught up with Kohaku after he had tried to kill Kagome upon Naraku's command. After knocking him to the ground, she promised to put and end to his misery.

"Kohaku, you don't have to worry any longer. I'm going to take your life, and then kill myself. You won't have to wander the afterlife alone. I'll be right there with you."

She raised her blade to deliver the killing blow, a quick strike to sever his carotid artery. That was the quickest and least painful method she knew of to take his life.

As her tears blurred her vision, her hand paused for just a fraction of a second as she thought. First Kuwato, then her stillborn sister, and now Kohaku.

'I'm now singularly responsible for the demise of all my siblings. What a wonderful elder sister I've turned out to be.' She thought bitterly. She already knew how she would kill herself. The upward thrust with her short blade into her own solar-plexus was the most painful end she could think of. She would bleed to death slowly, in excruciating pain.

But that was what she deserved, after a lifetime of failure at keeping her loved ones safe from harm, wasn't it?

That fraction of a second of hesitation turned out to be just enough for the hanyou to reach her. Grasping her wrist, he stopped the downward strike and pulled her away from Kohaku before admonishing her.

'Thank you, InuYasha.'

There turned out to be many things she would thank the silver-haired half-demon for over the next year or so that they traveled together, searching for the shards.

Of the jewel.

Of their broken lives.

He and the others helped her immeasurably, helped her to achieve emotional growth, to accept, to find some of those lost parts of herself. She had yet to reveal all of her past; they still didn't know about the episode with Kuwato. She was however trying to learn to trust, to love, and the monk had been quite helpful, in spite of his lechery. From her current vantage point, she couldn't imagine that she was the person she was back then. She still wasn't perfect, but she was getting better, and she would never stop trying.

That was why she hadn't hesitated for even a second in her attempt to save InuYasha, once she realized his life was in danger.

&&&&&&&

The remaining episodes of the life of Sango of the Taijiya clan flickered before her, and once she accepted that she had learned the lessons she had been born to, she acknowledged the presence once again. The feeling of intense love and happiness was so foreign to her that her giddiness actually became a concern. The presence gave her all the time she needed to adjust to these new feelings. A portal opened up then, beyond it a tunnel. The other end of the tunnel exploded into a bright light, and presently, she could see faint forms moving about. She began to move toward them via some external force, slowly at first, then faster and faster.

Soon she could see details of the figures waiting for her at the end of the tunnel. What was that? It couldn't be! There were her father, and mother, standing there holding her brother Kuwato. Others she remembered fondly were there as well. All were waiting for her with open arms. Her heart swelled in anticipation. Here it was; forgiveness and redemption were hers at last. The circle of her life was about to complete itself. She would now find the peace that eluded her those eighteen years. She would...

What was this?

Sango's movement slowed down, paused briefly, and then reversed. How? Why? She was moving now away from her loved ones, faster and faster and faster. They were getting smaller and smaller, now dots, now specs, now nothing as the tunnel imploded and collapsed before her. Neither was the calming presence anywhere to be found.

If this was a joke, it was impossibly cruel. Her orientation collapsed and she was sucked out of those spatial surroundings, through a dimension that became denser and denser, making it more and more difficult to move. There was a fraction of a second of absolute nothingness.

Then she inhaled sharply as her eyes flitted open.

Her lungs filled with... air. Gasping, blinking, and shifting her weight to get her bearings, she regarded her surroundings. Standing above her was the regal presence of the Lord of the Western Lands, a sword vibrating in his hands. He gazed upon her impassively, as if she was an insect that happened to flit past his field of vision. She knew his name. What was it?

"Sess...sho..."

All of a sudden, she felt the cold chill as her soul completed its adjustment to her physical body once more.

"But..."

Alive?

Again?

Sango's mind struggled to put everything together. She was certain she had died. But now... Wait!

Tensaiga!

He didn't... He couldn't have... Her chance at peace and happiness... gone? This was beyond cruel. This was insidious, downright evil. Tears of anguish filled her eyes as she tried to scream, but no sound emerged.

Sango then stumbled to her feet in a herky-jerky fashion, still not used to her body as her rage consumed her. Her katana was on the ground near where the first attack on Kikyo had taken place. So she drew her short blade.

And attacked Sesshomaru.

&&&&&&&

atth99: Thanks for saying that. I diverged a bit here to delve into Sango's past somewhat, as I'm finding I have a soft spot for her. I may even write a fic with her as the main character. Anyway, we'll get back to the main story next chap.

Silk Hope: Yes, he died. I see you're not too fond of Kags or Shippo. What can I say? You'll probably be disappointed because she steps up to the plate big time later on. Thanks for your comments.

Aimee: Wow! A review to die for! Readers like you make all the work worthwhile. Thank you so much!

Krazie-edge: I hope you still do, after this little side-story into Sango's past. Gracias.

AnimeGirl622: Thanks, Ashley! As you can see, Sango is back, and badder than ever! Umm, wait, that's a bad movie trailer...

Nysoku-loves-Sesshomaru: I hope you are still alive! Thank you and I hope you like this.

ShortPoet: Well, maybe a few more tears here. Please believe me, I'm not stuck in angst-mode! It picks up later on, I'm sure (double checks outline)... yeah, that's right. Anyway, Arrigatou!

AddictedtoInuyashaFics: No. Thank YOU! Hope you hang on beyond this little diversion.

Kiyana Va Sala: Beep! Wrong! Heh heh. She has her full memory, as well as that of her death experience. Now the question becomes: Is her desire for revenge against Naraku greater than the peace she found once in death, and could possibly find again? What's her motivation to keep on living if she can't save Kohaku? Is Miroku's love enough? Does he even love her the way she needs to be loved? Will she... Uh oh, this is reading like the outline for that other fic I mentioned earlier... Thanks for your comments!

Thanks to everyone else for your patience!

Next: Descent into Hell (for real!)