Sango came awake with a start and found that she had no idea where she was. The last thing she remembered was her brother, standing over her with a bloody scythe in his hand. No, that wasn't right.
She didn't hurt nearly enough to have taken the kind of hit she remembered. She was still dressed in her armor and her eyes felt like someone had rubbed sand in them, and unruly scraggles of hair had come free of her ponytail to trail down her neck and into her face. But as she sat up and brushed the grit and remaining sleepiness away she realized that her friends were alive and well, going about their morning routine as if nothing had happened. She must have only imagined encountering Kohaku in the forest, seeing her companions slain at his hand.
By the time she realized it was late morning—the others had let her sleep much later than usual—they had noticed she was awake.
"You're awake!" Kagome chirped, coming over to sit next to her. "How are you feeling?"
"Honestly? Confused," Sango admitted. "What happened?"
"Miroku rescued you from the vines of illusory death," Kagome explained, which clarified exactly nothing. "You've been sleeping ever since. We were really worried!"
As soon as Kagome said it, it all started to come back. Waking from the nightmare, the horrible disorientation that left her unsure of what had been real and what had been only a dream. The monk's arms around her as he held her and spoke comforting words while she struggled through her reaction to what had happened.
It was a little embarrassing to remember; it was one thing to turn to Kagome for that kind of comfort, and another thing altogether to turn to someone like the monk. But he had been there when she needed it, and had not given her any reason to regret it. Not yet, anyway.
"Sango? Are you okay?"
Mildly horrified at having been caught not paying attention, Sango assured her, "Of course. I'll be fine now. Is… is everyone else okay?"
"Yeah, everyone's fine," Kagome said, but this time her voice took a definite melancholy turn. Something had happened last night—or this morning while Sango slept—that had upset her.
What did I miss?
But it wouldn't do to ask Kagome about it, not when she was so obviously still upset. The last thing Sango wanted to do was make that worse. So she went in search of some privacy in which to change clothes and clean up a bit, and got her chance to ask questions a little after that. As she sat by the remains of the morning's fire to eat the breakfast they had saved for her, the monk wandered over and settled down not far from her. While she ate, he made small talk with Inuyasha.
She forced herself to finish her breakfast, feeding the leftovers to Kirara even though she was sure Kagome would have already fed her, aware the entire time that the monk was watching her. Under his scrutiny, however subtle, she found that she felt confused… and a little flustered. Had she really worried him so much? She supposed in his place, she would be worried, too.
Only when she was done eating did he actually acknowledge her. "Ah, Sango, how are you feeling this morning?"
"Much better, now."
"No lingering ill effects?"
She wondered what he was hinting at. The poisonous miasma from the mountain should not have had any long-term effect. Unless he didn't mean the mountain at all and was referring instead to the vines Kagome had mentioned. Illusory death…
"What are the vines of illusory death?" she asked. "I'm sorry to ask… I don't remember much about what happened."
He seemed happy to oblige. "It was part of Naraku's trap—we got caught up in them in the fog. It seems these vines make use of their victims' worst fears to incapacitate and devour them."
She could guess, then, what he had experienced. It was bad enough that he had to live with the curse of the kazaana hanging over his head every day. Now he had seen his worst fears realized, just as she had. Yet while everyone else was acting at least a little out of sorts, he behaved as if nothing had happened.
She felt suddenly tongue-tied. She had been cold to him lately, not trusting him to behave himself after the incident with the water god, when he had tried to take advantage of her, and again at Mushin's temple, when he had faked distress in order to grab her butt. Yet when it truly mattered, he came through.
He had given her space when she needed it and the others wanted to pry. She was reasonably sure he had put his own body between her and the poisonous miasma back at Naraku's castle, though her memories were hazy there, too. He'd kept her company while she healed afterward, told her stories to keep her spirits up. And now he had freed her from the vines and comforted her afterward, and brushed it off as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. She couldn't find words to express how relieved she felt that he had not attempted to take advantage of the situation then or now.
She wouldn't have believed it even a few days ago, but she was starting to think she had judged him too quickly and too harshly.
There had to be something she could do to demonstrate her gratitude… and her willingness to give him another chance.
Kirara, ever attuned to her moods, chose that moment to wander over and insinuate herself into Sango's lap. The nekomata had learned over the years that Sango was likely to cuddle and stroke her when she was in a thoughtful mood. Today, her presence did not just earn a few chin rubs, it sparked an idea.
"Kirara, may I ask a favor?"