The sun had set long ago, but Miroku held little hope of getting to sleep. After several long days of rest, he found that he was wide awake even as his friends must be preparing for bed. Still, he felt restless and confined, and did not wish to remain alone in the little hut any longer.
So with some effort he hauled himself out of the makeshift bed he'd been using for the last few days and made his slow and careful way outside. He had expected to run into Inuyasha, but the hanyou was nowhere to be seen. He must be off in the forest somewhere, getting into trouble or keeping an eye on things from afar.
Something else was far more interesting to Miroku than Inuyasha's whereabouts, however: Sango was sitting by the remains of the night's fire, staring up at the stars. Everyone else was asleep; even Kirara, who had snuggled up next to Sango's hip.
Pleased to find that his steps were steadier than he feared they might be, Miroku went to join her.
"Can't sleep?" he asked.
She shrugged. "Inuyasha wants to leave first thing in the morning."
"So you wanted to enjoy this last peaceful night?" he surmised. It was a lovely evening, clear and calm, the dark sky shining with stars. He could hardly blame her.
"Mmm," she murmured. Not an agreement, but not a denial, either.
What was she thinking about? He didn't ask, but seated himself not too far from her and wondered. She had been on his mind a lot these last few days, at least when he wasn't sleeping off the worst of the poison. It seemed that every time he allowed his thoughts to wander, he couldn't help but remember the look on her face as she'd turned back and told him and Kagome, "I'm sorry."
Over and over: that sorrow, that desperate finality… He vastly preferred her smile. Or the way the warm firelight caressed her face as it flickered.
She wasn't smiling now, but she seemed to him more thoughtful than sad. Again, he wondered what she might be thinking about, and also how he might put a smile back on her face.
His usual proposition in this type of situation—that they find someplace relatively private to make the most of the evening together—faltered in his throat and died unuttered. It seemed somehow wrong to say such things to Sango, given the circumstances.
He was rather surprised to find that he preferred not to ask if he wasn't sure of getting a positive response. Ordinarily he was not particularly bothered by a woman rebuffing his advances, but this was Sango, a companion and friend. He wanted to see her smile again, not invoke her anger. (It really was too bad that painful self-sacrifice was the only way he had yet discovered to earn that smile.)
Still, she seemed just the tiniest bit melancholy, and not entirely opposed to his company. And he was willing to take what he could get.
"Something else is on your mind," he observed.
She thought about it for a moment before telling him, "Kagome caught Inuyasha with Kikyou when we were back at Kaede's village."
Well, he thought, that explains a lot.
She went on, "Did you know?"
"I had wondered," he admitted. "There was an ominous aura in the air that night, and both Inuyasha and Kagome acted strange afterward."
It had also not escaped his notice that Inuyasha had failed to deny the encounter, even if he had also failed to address the allegation at all. Their friend might prefer to pretend such things were of no consequence, but he couldn't be further from the truth. And Miroku, having dealt with his share of perceived romantic slights, ought to know.
Sango frowned, her expression saying loudly what she did not say aloud: and you didn't tell me?
He found he quite enjoyed seeing this side of her. She did not indulge in gossip particularly often, but when she did he was happy to participate. "It was only a guess."
She seemed to accept that; no point in stirring up trouble where there wasn't any already. Something about it was still bothering her, though, that much was obvious. Miroku kept quiet and let her come around to it in her own time.
And, sure enough, she did. "That was a while ago, now, but Kagome is still really upset about it." She gave a little sigh. "I didn't know how to help her, Houshi-sama. I may have just made things worse."
Ah, there it was. She wasn't merely gossiping, she hoped to forewarn him in case the situation between their friends was about to get worse. It was sweet, really; maybe it was just because he was still recovering from being poisoned, but he was inordinately pleased that she had decided to look out for him off the battlefield, as well.
And yet for all that he was still firmly "Houshi-sama" to her, kept at arm's length by the title and deference he often did nothing to deserve. The others called him out for his bad behavior, but not Sango. She definitely let him know when he had transgressed, but her methods were decidedly different from the others. The longer he knew her, the more he learned about her, the more of a mystery she became.
Watching her by firelight, there was no denying it: she was drawing him in, whether she meant to or not, piquing his curiosity as much as his compassion.