Sango kept an eye on Miroku as he entered the hut; Kagome trailed along behind him, looking sheepishly toward Sango as she did. There was no use telling her she didn't need to feel bad, so Sango didn't bother. She wasn't nervous, not really. She knew the monk wouldn't try anything unseemly, not while she was injured and unhealed. Later, when she'd begun to heal and had started to regain her strength… that would be the problem. But for now, she was fairly certain she was safe.
He'd treated her injuries once before, after all, and he hadn't done a bad job of it. She would bear that scar on her back until the end of her days, but even the most skilled healer could not have done much better with an injury of that nature. That she'd lived at all was something of a surprise, and the speed of her recovery spoke to Miroku's skill as a healer.
"It's the wound on her shoulder," Kagome murmured. She kept her voice low, but Sango heard anyway. "I…"
Miroku smiled in that disarming way he had and responded with something Sango didn't quite hear, but for the first time it seemed he wasn't trying to get anything by turning that smile on an unsuspecting young woman. He was trying to put Kagome at ease, to reassure her that this wasn't a problem, that he didn't mind helping out. That she wasn't weak or less useful for not knowing how to do this.
That he wasn't going to do anything Sango wouldn't approve of, because there were more important things to be done right now.
Sango bit back a sigh and tried to be reassuring herself. She was still angry at Miroku for his behavior lately, but his actions at the ruined village and Naraku's castle had caused her to question that anger. He'd done as she asked, burying the slain villagers as they deserved. Where Inuyasha had seen only the potential for treachery, Miroku had trusted her. And he had come with the others, following her into Naraku's trap. She'd been slipping in and out of consciousness at the time, but she was sure he'd saved her from the poisonous miasma.
But she remembered all too well the feeling of his hand on her bottom.
She didn't like the sensation of inner conflict, or her confusion over this seemingly contradictory behavior, one bit. One moment he would be charming or thoughtful or kind, and the next he would be infuriating. Even now she was bracing for the inevitable feel of his hand on her body, even though she knew that wouldn't come until she was on the mend. All things considered, she would rather not have had to deal with him at all just yet.
Looking at Kagome again as the two companions came over to crouch at her side, Sango decided that for Kagome she could put up with it.
With Kagome's help, Sango slipped her shoulder and arm free of her tattered, blood-stained kosode. It would need washing and mending, and soon, but those things could wait for now. Kagome carefully unwrapped the bandages she'd placed over the wound only a short time earlier so Miroku could see the extent of the injury. Sango watched the monk warily while Kagome worked, half-expecting a leer now that her breasts were covered only by linen binding, but he seemed focused entirely on the injury to her shoulder.
"Ah, yes, unfortunately this will require stitches, Sango-sama," he said.
She'd known that, but nodded anyway.
That was the part Kagome didn't know how to do. The thing she couldn't stomach, though she was trying bravely to do better this time than she had the first time. This time she had stuck around to watch what Miroku was doing, and hopefully learn a thing or two.
Sango wished that Kagome could have stuck to bandaging mild injuries and handing out miraculous pain-numbing pills and other wonders. Somehow it seemed like learning this would take a piece of Kagome's innocence away. But there wasn't anything she could do about it, so she sat quietly while Miroku explained the principles of treating such a deep gash to Kagome.
They'd had to wait a long time to treat the wounds, though all of the various cuts and punctures had been more or less superficial save the slash across her left shoulder. Sango was exhausted and lightheaded, but she knew she was not in danger of her life as her friends had feared. A few days of rest and she would be back on her feet again. The shoulder injury would take longer to heal, but it wasn't her throwing arm. It could have been worse.
Her companions hadn't brought any of their supplies with them when they chased after her, so they'd had to wait for Inuyasha to run back to the ruined village and return with everything. Fortunately, Kagome's first aid kit contained a sterilized needle and thread in addition to bandages and salves.
There was probably going to be a big scar, Sango realized, feeling numb. Another one.
She'd seldom received injuries bad enough to scar like this before… before. I'm becoming careless, she thought as Miroku wiped the wound clean with one of Kagome's sanitizing wipes and began to stitch it shut. He went slowly, speaking soothingly to Kagome as he demonstrated what to do.
He was good; she barely felt the needle. Or maybe that was Kagome's medicine. She wondered if it was Mushin who had taught him, but did not ask. There would be plenty of time for questions later.
Sango fought against an anguished shudder. There would be time for questions later, and discussions around the dinner-fire, and sneaking away for a hot bath with Kagome. She wasn't going to be alone, because they had refused to hate her in spite of Naraku's best efforts. Even now, when she had no more tears to shed, the feeling was nearly overwhelming.
Almost before she knew it, Miroku was placing a large adhesive bandage over the newly stitched wound. "You're certain none of the other injuries require stitching?" he asked Kagome.
Sango flushed – though with embarrassment or anger, she could not have said – and prepared to go on the defensive. Kagome nodded silently, staring resolutely at her lap. Instead of making a suggestive remark about the locations of Sango's other injuries, Miroku carefully put away the contents of Kagome's first aid kit and handed it back to its rightful owner.
"You did well," he assured her. "Better than last time."
Kagome ducked her head. "Last time I ran away and almost got sick," she murmured.
"And this time you didn't. We'll make a healer of you yet," Miroku promised. He glanced toward Sango, who was watching with unabashed curiosity. "Now come, we should let Sango-sama get some rest."
She watched them go, only belatedly realizing that she'd forgotten to put her kosode back on after Miroku finished dressing her wound. She shoved her arm into the sleeve and tugged the garment back up over her shoulder. Her fingers brushed Kirara's fur. She paused, then stroked gently. The tiny, limp form shivered and mewed.
"Please be okay," Sango murmured to her old friend. Kirara still hadn't managed to shake off the effects of Naraku's poison and remained huddled against Sango's leg where Miroku had left her earlier. She couldn't bring herself to say it out loud, but Kirara was all that she had left. From her village, from her home, from her family. With her own wounds tended, Sango was beginning to realize just how dire Kirara's situation was. She had never seen Kirara appear this fragile before.
Please be strong, Kirara, she thought. The warm, soft fur was so familiar, so comforting. Even though she had Kagome and the others now, Sango couldn't bear the thought of losing Kirara. I don't know what I'd do without you.