Disclaimer: No. I don't own it. Please don't sue.

Author's Note: Sorry that this took longer than expected. I really did love your reviews, and I really appreciate them. It's just that I've had a massive amount of projects/essays this week. In fact, I should be doing my US History project right now, but oh well. Who would rather type an article about the Battle of Gettysburg than a chapter of BUS? Obviously, I wouldn't.

This is a very sad chapter, and it has a lot of my soul put into it. Whether it's any good or not, it's up to you to decide and review upon. I hope you like it. I was going to make it longer, but I like the spot where I ended. I hope you do, too.

No Japanese (at least I don't think so)

Chapter 5, Ashes to the Wind and Kyoden's Will

"Stop squirming!"

"But Sango-!" Miroku whined.

Sango grabbed his ear and Miroku began to protest accordingly. "I told you to sit still! How am I ever going to get this wrapped if you keep moving?!"

The hime and Miroku were sitting together by a makeshift campfireneither of them had ever spent an entire night alone in the woods, so their survival skills were limited. Sango had found a first aid kit amongst the robes Scarlet had given to Miroku and herself and was now wrapping - or rather, trying to wrap- Miroku's head.

"There!" Sango exclaimed, exasperated. She cut the gauze and patted it against his head to make sure it would stay. "Now, was that really so bad?" She began putting the supplies back in the kit where they had come from.

"Yes!" Miroku replied loudly, rubbing the dressed wound on the back of his head.

Sango rolled her eyes and picked one of the logs in the fire. She proceeded to clear an area to sleep on by melting the snow. Miroku watched her carefully, fascinated that she had thought of such a logical way to get rid of such an obstruction. He never would have thought of it! Soon, so as not to look suspicious, he began to imitate her. Between them, they soon had a very nice, large ring cleared. They settled down near the fire and waited for the ground to dry.

"We have a problem," Sango said after a time.

"What's that?" Miroku asked, looking up from the fire that he was prodding.

Sango pointed at the sack of supplies. "The robes Scarlet gave us"

Miroku blinked, clueless as to what she was suggesting. "What about them?"

"Houshi-sama," Sango moaned, aggravated, "they're houshi robes. I clearly am not a man, so how could I be a houshi?!"

"Oh" Miroku said helpfully.

Sango let out a sigh of irritation and stood up. "Is that all you have to say? 'Oh'? 'Oh' is not going to solve this problem."

"I think you're overreacting," Miroku accused. "After all, it's not that hard to act the part." He bit his lip as he realized that he would know that better than anyone. "All you have to do is not show you're face, which is what you were planning in the first place. You could cut your hair-"

"I most certainly will not!" Sango cried, grabbing the mahogany locks as if to keep them safe.

"-or we could bind it on top of your head and give you a hat. She provided a rice hat, didn't she? Good, good." Miroku was grinning broadly and seemed not to notice the scowl on Sango's face. "Actually, if you think about it, Scarlet provided you with the perfect disguise."

Sango stuck out her lower lip, but did not say anything further on the matter.

-

Morning came quickly; the melting snow reflected the sky's coloring of a blushing peach. Miroku soon found himself being prodded awake. He opened one amethyst eye and looked for the one responsible for his rude awakening. He found her sitting beside him on the snow, the brim of her basket-like hat shading her eyes. "Wow," he said as his jaw dropped. He sat up and surveyed the metamorphosis.

Sango blushed brightly. She was clothed similarly to Miroku, but the lack of prayer beads and violet cloth showed her to be of a lower order, his apprentice so to speak. As the costume was for one not yet assimilated in the order, Sango carried a woven crate on her back in which they would keep all their supplies. "I-I already put my stuff in the pack, so you can get changed and we'll go." She moved to the edge of the clearing. "I'll wait for you on the road."

Miroku nodded mutely, still astounded by the transformation. He changed quickly, happy to be out of his disgusting old robes. He threw the former robes in the brush, scattered the ashes of their fire, and removed any other sign that they had spent the night in this clearing. Then, he went to meet Sango.

In the clearing he had left behind, one of the trees shook roughly. In a slow and painful looking process, a silver-scaled lizard-shaped youkai detached itself from the tree, regaining its shape as it went. Finally, it stood on its two hind legs, staring after the unsuspecting forms of the houshi and Sango as they disappeared over the horizon line. It cackled ruefully, and then scuttled off into the woods to inform its master of who he had spotted during his nap.

-

"Tomomi! Tomomi"

A petite and supple-limbed girl looked up from her washing. She was in her teens, though her body was curved beyond her years. Her Holm berry lips whose ends were more often than not curled in a smile were closed tightly together and fell in a grimace. Her eyes, which usually sparkled with the joy of her ninth year, were red and puffy. Her silky black hair had spilled out from its loose binds and hung somberly around her pale face. "Hai?" Tomomi responded.

The boy who had called her ran up and tugged on Tomomi's yukata, waiting for air to re-enter his lungs. When he had gathered a sufficient amount, he sputtered, "There are two houshi here. They want to be led to the castle."

Tomomi started at him severely for a few moments and then sighed. "A service will be held I suppose?"

"The one houshi said that he would like to set up a shrine to honor the dead, but he fears traveling the path this late. His companion suggested I ask you to lead them," the boy said, blankly. "I offered by help, but the younger one insisted that he wanted you."

Tomomi's frown grew. Was it possible that the houshi had been through here before? She couldn't be sure unless she saw them. There had been wandering houshi in their village before, of course, but she had rarely spoken with any of them. What could be their purpose in sending for her? Tomomi shrugged finally, deciding to pay it no heed and to accompany the boy back to where the houshi stood.

-

Sango looked up hopefully as the boy came running toward them. She stood to greet him, not caring whether or not Miroku had also noticed the boy's return. "Did you-" she stopped mid-sentence as Tomomi rounded the corner, choking on her words as tears stung in her eyes.

Miroku rose to his feet and then proceeded to drop a coin in the boy's hand and dismissed him. Miroku nodded to Tomomi and then motioned for both she and Sango to head for the tree line. Tomomi raised a suspicious eyebrow, but did not argue.

Once they had entered the protection of the tightly packed trees, the three turned to face one another.

"You asked for me," Tomomi said slowly, studying the face of the houshi whose countenance was not hidden beneath the brim of the hat.

"My name is Miroku," the prince said, offering his hand to the tiny girl in front of him. He didn't know anything about her besides her name and that she was the one person Sango felt she could trust in this village to keep her secret.

Tomomi did not take his hand, but rather moved her eyes decisively toward Sango. Somehow- Miroku could tell- Tomomi knew that Sango had a familiar aura. "And you are?"

"Oh, Tomomi!" Sango cried, throwing her hat aside. Her mahogany locks instantly fell from their bindings. She had tears on her cheeks, which glowed like two lost fireflies in the dying light of day. She stood like a statue, afire with the crimsons of a failing sunbeam, then rushed across the grove and threw her arms around a stunned Tomomi.

"Sa-Sango!" Tomomi gasped as the princess's arms encircled her. She steadied herself and then her own tears flowed into her dark orbs. She buried them shamefully in Sango's robes. "Sango-chanwe thought you had died"

Sango broke away and laughed, despite the dampness of her cheeks. "Me?" she raked a hand through her hair to keep it from clinging to her face. "I wouldn't die so easily!" Then, her tears began again and she threw her face into the crook of her best friend's neck.

Miroku observed the two girl's for a moment longer, and then stepped from the grove.

-

"And your grandfather?" Sango asked as they climbed the path to the castle. "How is he?" It was almost pitch now, so Sango had shed her cumbersome hat. She walked beside Tomomi, gossiping with her happily. To anyone else, the path would be next to impossible to navigate in the dark, and that would be in complete silence and concentration. But Sango and Tomomi had walked this path to see one another almost every day of their lives.

Miroku followed close behind, relying solely on his ears to find where the girls were. Every now and again, he inserted a comment into their conversations, especially ones that concerned him (which there were many of). Unfortunately, Tomomi mentioned to him that Kyoden's younger brother was named Miroku. Miroku just lowered his eyes.

Finally, after an age, they reached the summit of the hill. Miroku and Sango blanched, univocally.

The scattered, smoldering ruins glowed wraithlike in the moonlight of the tree-less summit. They towered above the onlookers' heads still, proud skeletons of their former glory. Around the base of the castle lay countless decaying mounds of clothing, armor, and charred, bloodied flesh. There was no vegetationthe only thing that broke the silence that death had decreed here were three small figures.

Sango slipped slowly to her knees, her hand covering her heart. Tomomi reached out and grabbed the princess's other hand in a consoling gesture. Miroku detached himself from the two women and stepped further into the monstrous display. Sango watched him until he had disappeared amongst the debris.

An eternity followed in which Sango knelt in the snow, shivering from something more than the chill of the night. Tomomi eventually sat beside her friend and laid her head on Sango's shoulder, still holding her hand. They said no words; there were none that would fit. They shed no tears; their sorrow was beyond those blessed droplets.

Then, just as the sky began to soften into a hazy, depressed gray, Miroku reappeared. His face was drawn and ashen.

Sango rose upon seeing him, trying to catch his eyes. But the two amethysts had lost their sparkle, and Miroku would not let his agony be revealed to her. Instead, he walked to her, took her hand from Tomomi, and began to led her the way he had come.

It was not long before they reached the room where Sango had last seen her father. The ceiling had caved in one part of the room, but the desk that marked the room as his study remainedmore or less. Her father was gone, and only a sprinkling of ashes remained to mark the place where he had fallen. Sango bowed to them, her lip trembling as she let her fingers graze the pale cinders. Miroku watched her for several moments, then pulled a small, ornate pouch from his robes. He put it in her palm, and then stood back as Sango, with shaking hands, gathered her father's ashes and ushered them into the container. Tomomi entered the room slowly, quietly, and moved to stand beside Miroku.

When Sango had taken all she could, the three of them stepped outside. In reverent silence, Miroku and Tomomi watched as Sango scattered her father's ashes to the wind.

As the last cinder was surrendered to the wind's gentle coaxing, Miroku once again took Sango's hand. Tomomi stayed behind. This time, they traveled deeper into the heart of the castle. When they had neared the back exit, Miroku stopped.

Sango, who was still standing behind him, grabbed the fabric on his sleeve. "Houshi-sama," she whispered.

Miroku looked back at her.

A gasp came from Sango as her gaze met his. Miroku quickly looked away, but he knew the damage was done. Sango stepped around him and looked down.

On the wooden floor, which still shining with the health they knew when they had been part of a grander estate, lay Kyoden. His face was white, his mouth open, and his black eyes still staring at where Sango had stood that night. Rot, if it had even begun, was not present on his visible features. In appearance, he was as perfect an artifact as he had been at death. A thin trickle of dried blood had meandered down his cheek.

Sango hiccupped with suppressed tears. Slowly, with unbalance, she bent beside her fallen love. "Kyoden" she whispered.

They remained that way until Sango reached up and closed Kyoden's eyes. She planted a kiss on his forehead, and then stood.

Miroku and Sango began walking away together, the hime just a step behind the self-appointed houshi. Suddenly, Sango turned and ran back the way they had come, calling behind her that she would return. Miroku did not follow, but rather lingered in miserable silence.

When Sango came to him several minutes later, her eyes were dry. In her hands, she clutched Kyoden's katana. Miroku's stomach turned as he laid eyes upon his brother's beloved blade. It caught the fragile light and shimmered ethereally, and the beauty of his brother's most prized possession tugged at his heart.

He blinked in surprise when Sango held it out to him.

She moved swiftly to explain, "It was Kyoden'sI-" she blushed, "I know you can't use it, but I want you to have it just the same. Somehow I knowit's what Kyoden would have wanted."

Miroku could have cried at those words. Instead, he blinked away the unwanted tears and took the katana firmly in his hands. The hilt felt warm in his palm. He risked a kind of half-smile, his broken heart swelling with contentedness. He looked at Sango and was astonished to find her beaming at him.

"It suites you," she breathed.

Miroku embraced her; she had no idea how much those words meant to him.

-

Outside, Tomomi had started a fire, trusting the aura of the ruins to ward off unwanted guests. She waited patiently for her friends, warming herself by the flickering embers, and watching the day's glow slowly surpass that of her fire's.

She did not see the shadow dart across the clearing, heading for the castle and the royal couple within.

Ichimu

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